Same Side
by Era Yachi
Summary: Atlantis is home, and the team has a whole new basket of apples to deal with: keeping the city hidden, staving off a Wraith invasion, power shortage and...oh yeah, the giant alien robots. Stargate: Atlantis and Transformers movies crossover.
1. Planes, Trains and Autobots

_**Same Side**_

_**---**_

**Summary**: Atlantis is home, and the team has a whole new basket of apples to deal with: keeping the city hidden, staving off a Wraith invasion, power shortage and…oh yeah, the giant alien robots. (Stargate: Atlantis/Transformers movieverse crossover)

**AN**: It had to be done eventually.

I plan to work on _Orsus Comitas_ (Stargate: SGA/Farscape crossover) and _Same Side_ at the same time. I'll be writing shorter chapters for both, ranging between 2,000-2,500 words rather than the 3,000+ chapters I usually aim for. These are the only two I plan on working on this summer.

Below is a list of characters from each fandom that will be featured, and there are many. This means that these characters will get quite a bit of attention and likely will appear in more than half of the chapters.

**From Stargate:**

Sheppard  
McKay  
Ronon  
Teyla (later on)  
Lorne  
Woolsey (until a certain point)

**From Transformers:**

Major Lennox  
Sergeant Epps  
Optimus Prime  
Ironhide  
Mudflap/Skids  
Ratchet  
Storm Jet (newcomer)  
Trailbreaker (newcomer)

Those who haven't read the novel, _The Veiled Threat_ (the prequel or 'in betweenquel' to the Revenge of the Fallen) , you won't recognize some of the characters. But I've brought them back for nostalgic purposes, mainly. They aren't permanent.

* * *

-

_Chapter One: Planes, Trains, and Autobots_

_-  
_

The sound of the ocean was a great thing to listen to in the morning. Sheppard made a habit of listening to it a few minutes before he got out of bed to start his day. Of course, back then in the Pegasus galaxy, the ocean was pretty much the only thing you heard in the morning: the sound of waves crashing into the piers of the ancient city and a gentle soothing breeze through the skyscraping towers. Nah, _here_ he heard all that _and_ the sounds of San Francisco just a mile away from his window: traffic, car horns, sirens, airplanes and all that.

Staying in Atlantis had been his decision. It was extremely personal: Earth was great, sure, but Atlantis was still home. Who cared what planet it was on? Atlantis was Atlantis. Nothing much happened around here anymore, since most of the personnel moved back to the SGC or other Stargate program attachments. The 'Atlanteans' as everyone knew them fell apart and the city was manned by a handful of the diehard members of the original expedition, and a _lot_ of new guys.

Explaining how to use the strange Ancient toilets more than once was hard enough—getting used to the new Atlantis was not fun, sure, but Sheppard could take it.

"John! _John!_ I know you're not sleeping. I need you in the Gate Room—these incapable _morons_ are driving me absolutely _insane!_ Sheppard? Oh, come on, like I believe you're _actually_ sleeping this time."

Then there was McKay.

Sheppard rolled out of his bed, already fully clothed in his expedition gear. Naptime was over. "Hey, Rodney," he said with mild conviction. "Nice of you to drop in."

His scientist counterpart and team member-became-friend rolled his eyes, as if the entire world had gone crazy; then again, it kinda had. "Gate Room. Acting witty doesn't help me get the Playskool PhDs in line. You know what today is?"

Of course the Lieutenant Colonel knew what day it was, but just to dryly humour him, he folded his arms and said, "No, Rodney. What day is it?"

"Uh, only the biggest deadline in my career? As in, two days _after_ I told Landry I'd have the Atlantis gate calibrated to work in tandem with Earth's main Stargate, which is being removed from the SCG as we speak and put into classified storage space, meaning if I don't finish this—"

"Rodney?"

"_What?_"

"Breathe."

Sheppard couldn't blame him for being completely stressed out. Whereas nothing interesting had happened since their arrival on Earth, the big stuff was still coming. 'Big', as in Stargate Command being relocated to Atlantis, and the city being moved to a remote island a few hundred clicks down the coast. After more than a decade of good old planetary defense, the SGC was getting a facelift and Atlantis was going to be the new 'temporary' headquarters for all off-world business until they finished remodeling the old hangar. A few months, maybe years…it was something to look forward to, at least.

He finally stood up, ignoring McKay's 'finally' look, and headed out into the familiar corridors of the city. By now, he could blindfold and hogtie himself, and he'd still make it to the Gate Room without even breaking a sweat. It made him feel proud, though left him wondering if he should consider a vacation. A little one.

"Hey." Ronon's voice joined him, then Ronon himself as the tall Satedan fell into stride next to him. He always had this habit of showing up out of nowhere. "McKay wake you up, too?"

"There you are!" McKay himself snapped before Sheppard could open his mouth. "Weren't you supposed to be ready like…an hour ago?" he accused, glancing at his watch.

"I got hungry."

"Rodney, could you tell us what exactly it is you want us for? It's seven A.M for crying out loud. It's not even breakfast yet."

That earned him a sharp glare. Again, bad Sheppard: he shouldn't ever question the issues of the chief scientific advisor of the city of Atlantis. McKay launched into a halting explanation. "Okay, problem one: Atlantis' Stargate is a little more modern in design than the SGC gate, and overriding the interface between Earth's galactic positioning grid and the Ancients' version of a G.P.S. is—"

"Next problem," pressed the colonel.

"We can dial out," McKay finished in a hurry, sounding very unsure of himself. The trio slowed to a stop, as John turned a long, penetrating look on the scientist.

"Why do I get this feeling like that's not a good thing?"

McKay winced, just barely. "Well, we _should_ be able to dial out. Problem is, we were only sent a partial download of the S.G.C. database, and I mean _partial_. We've only got about six local addresses to choose as a test site within the projected 'safe wormhole' quadrant and…well, none of them are exactly Alpha…worthy."

After a lengthy moment, Sheppard tilted his head towards him. "Rodney, we've had this discussion before. Me and Ronon aren't guinea pigs."

"Seriously, colonel?" Though it hardly seemed possibly, McKay sounded even _more_ annoyed by that. "Would I even consider sending you through a wormhole I wasn't a hundred percent sure was stable? Or to a planet I suspected was deadly? Besides…I, uh…I'm coming, too."

Ronon looked at the colonel, and the colonel looked back at him with a slight smirk. "It's safe," the Satedan concluded, before setting off down the corridor.

"Yep." Sheppard followed him, now grinning broadly.

"Oh, very funny." And third as usual, the astrophysicist jogged behind them in an effort to keep up.

McKay wasn't kidding. The Gate Room was packed with people, dozens of unfamiliar faces doing strange things and totally ignoring the trio of Sheppard's team. In retrospect, there were always weird people swarming the Stargate these days. And there was a _lot_ more military presence than usual. Sheppard spotted lots of army uniforms, where he'd normally see Atlantis uniforms—exactly what he _liked_ to see, hard-working men and women of the Army, Marines, and Air Force all working together. This was kind of like military domination, and he didn't like it just because he happened to be an Air Force Lieutenant Colonel, but because they were doing his job for him. Heck, he didn't even know what that job was right now.

If only Teyla stayed on Atlantis. She and Kanaan found an apartment in San Francisco…actually, he didn't know what she was doing. She'd been acting strangely since they came back to Earth a few months past and stayed pretty much out of touch. Sometimes he heard things from Rodney, who heard things from Keller, but that was the closest thing he had to contact with her.

To his surprise, he soon spotted General Landry briskly walking their way, in a way that suggested he had something important to share. Not that he knew him personally, but Landry struck him as the kind of guy who didn't jump all over the place in difficult situations. Sheppard recognized the professional vibe in the air and gave him a quick salute, just out of polite formality. The general returned it and nodded to his team.

"Sorry to be the bearer of bad news, Colonel," he started with a passively furled brow. "There won't be any off-world exploration today; in fact, Stargate travel has been suspended until oh six hundred hours tomorrow morning. They're sending me to Washington for an emergency debriefing, and I'm requesting your team to be SGC's official representative."

Sheppard shot a side-long glance at Rodney, who looked just as baffled as he felt. He had a bad feeling about this. "With all due respect, sir, Washington is the reason we're still on Atlantis. If this is about reassignment---"

"Don't worry about that, Colonel," Landry assured him, side-stepping to allow a group of four scientists carrying something covered under a white cloth to pass by. "I'm not at liberty to tell you what this is about, but these are orders are directly from Admiral Warner from Homeworld Security."

He had to pause before asking, because Sheppard was the kind of guy who had to make _sure_ of things before jumping to conclusions. "You want…my whole team to go to Washington, you mean."

"Actually, Georgia. With the exception of Teyla, who already turned down the formal request for maternal reasons. Same goes to you, Ronon, since you're considered an ally out of our jurisdiction. You've been given the same level of clearance, should you choose to accept it."

"Where Sheppard goes, I go," the Satedan responded simply, as though it were as simple as that. "So what kind of clearance?"

"You'll find out when you arrive in Quantico." Landry sighed, turning around to face Atlantis' Stargate. "That's where you'll be fully briefed on the situation and meet up with the other members of your team."

"Whoa, whoa, hold on," McKay jumped in. "_Quantico_? As is, gigantic Marines base Quantico? That has to be like…the _farthest_ thing from Washington, Cheyenne Mountain or Atlantis. It's a five hour flight! Not to mention I have a Stargate program to get back up and running, like…_three_ hours ago yesterday."

"Dr. Zelenka will be filling yours shoes while you're away, Dr. McKay." Over the years, even General Landry was getting used to, and learning how to deal with the astrophysicists difficult outbursts. "I assure you that what you'll be dealing with makes this business seem almost elementary in comparison." His eyes traveled to Sheppard with the all of the sharpness of a military general. "Six hundred hours tomorrow, Colonel. Now if you'll excuse me, I have to go pack that bag I just unpacked this morning…"

Whatever was bigger than Atlantis, or the Stargate, or the Stargate Program for that matter, John was suddenly wishing he'd chosen to retire early when he got back. Heck, this time, he didn't even get the option—that's what happened when you knew too much about aliens and Earth invasions. He looked at his teammates. Ronon didn't seem fazed, as always; he wouldn't be surprised if the big guy was actually looking forward to the exciting stuff. Rodney on the other hand looked like someone had slapped him. In a way, someone kinda did. This was the 'big thing' McKay had been working on for the past few weeks, and to let a bunch of new people take over and finish the job (probably get the credit, too) was the equivalent to taking a P-90 and letting it rip all over the Mona Lisa…If Rodney had been an art fan. Maybe his analogies needed work.

And he was just getting used to the idea of sleeping in.

* * *

-

Two trashed Decepticon bodies. Sixteen minutes of all-out melee, deafening explosions, propelled rockets, blood and whatever passed for robot blood, and collective sweat. Divide one with the other, and you got eight dead men.

That meant eight flags, eight caskets, and eight lies to cover up the reason each and every man died on the hot and humid plains of Northeast Florida outside a military outpost with unbreakable security clearance. Deceptions needed Energon, and the Autobots happened to have a small cache stored there while investigating a strange energy signal picked up by one of NORAD's satellites. The signal had been a decoy. The Decepticons didn't have the human resources that the Autobots had, and openly attacking and robbing power plants of their resources would draw too much attention. A trap. Whole damned thing had been a trap.

Crankcase and Steamhammer were dead, of course: piles of scrap metal in the middle of a scorched battlefield littered with the remains of two tanks. Two halves of the first tank to be ripped apart lay sprawled, like red-hot molten skeletons no less than fifteen yards apart. The two soldiers inside weren't as lucky. It would probably take hours to try and collect their remains.

In the smokescreen of the aftermath, a much-battered Optimus Prime, Ironhide and Ratchet stood on the battlefield as the wounded and dead were carted away. There were vehicles surrounding the dead Deceptions and prepping their removal at twice the speed of everyone else. Lennox didn't realize he was staring at them until he noticed Optimus' looming presence next to him.

"Megatron is growing desperate indeed," the leader of the Autobots said gravely. "I am sorry, Major. We did not foresee an attempt on our supplies of Energon, as all Cybertronians know how unwise open battle is so near even the smallest of supplies."

"Yeah," the major replied without much conviction. "Well, like you said—this isn't like Megatron. So either Starscream is starting to act out, or we've rogue Decepticons all over again. I don't know which is worse."

Optimus shook his head. "Neither. Both scenarios spell disaster, for both Autobots and humankind. For now, we will remove our stores of Energon from your custody and hide them in a remote location, in order to prevent your military from suffering any more in our name."

Lennox craned his head to look up at the Autobot with an undefined expression. "Somehow I'm feeling the need to remind you, big guy, that _you're_ the ones defending the whole planet from these maniacs. Keeping an eye on your fuel source? That's nothing. Request for transport of military good denied."

The equivalent of a sigh was his first indication that he'd said something half-wrong. Or half-right. "The danger placed upon human lives cannot go overlooked."

"Never thought I'd say this, Optimus," Lennox replied, turning around. He gave the Autobot a companionable clout on his leg as he began to head for the base. "For once, think about your own life. You need that Energon, and we won't risk losing it because it's not under our protection. Go see Ratchet, get fixed up, and we'll talk about it later."

Other than the fact that he'd just given the immensely powerful leader of the Autobots the brush-off, Lennox was feeling like nothing could make his day worse. A hot shower and a big lunch might make it better, though. He could feel the sharp sting of the shrapnel cuts on his face and his leg was sore from landing on it wrong. He was dirty as hell and tired, too. He'd known one of the soldiers who died inside what was left of the tank—Sergeant Underhill, an ex-boxer with twin baby boys at home. He'd lost to his triple ace three-of-a-kind four nights ago. Wouldn't be the last time he had to see a good man go down, but it didn't make it any better to start thinking that way.

The jeep that pulled up alongside him didn't even catch his attention until he saw a man get out and start to walk his way. Lennox considered breaking for it, fake an emergency call over his radio or pretend he had to piss _really_ bad, but he didn't have the energy. The suited official either was too blue to notice the carnage on the field just outside of the base, or it didn't bother him. Before he knew it, Lennox was looking at a tanned face with dark shades. Quaint security disguise—he wondered if this guy was Secret Service, or an overreaching CIA agent. Maybe neither.

"Major Lennox. Special Interests Agent Palmer of the Department of Homeland Security. I won't waste your time, considering the state of things," the man started, holding out a folder and flashing his credentials at the same time. Lennox stared at him for a moment, before reaching out with a muddy hand to take it. "These are orders directly from the Secretary of Defense. Be assured that the contents are unrelated to the events that unfolded today. I've been told to tell you that this is an emergency requisition of your time and resources, and requires your attention to another branch of classified material under Executive Order 13292."

Well, Lennox wasn't used to getting his orders from anyone outside of the United States Army, or members of the cabinet themselves where concerning global emergencies…and he'd never heard of a 'Special Interest Agent' in any operating government agency. He held onto the sealed folder and narrowed his eyes at the 'agent'. "Thanks," was all he said.

Agent Palmer tilted his head at him slightly, glanced over his shoulder at the grouped Autobots standing a few dozen meters past the major's shoulder, then got back into the jeep. Unfazed. Lennox watched the taillights of the vehicle a moment before looking down at the folder in his hands. It had 'Top Secret' in bold, almost cheesy letter across the front. Just like in the days when he'd first learned everything he knew about the Autobots.

He tore open the seal to take a look at the letter of introduction, written by Secretary Keller himself. When the paragraph sunk in, the first thing he began to wonder was how he would tell Optimus and the others that they wouldn't be rejoining the other Autobots back in Diego Garcia.

* * *

-

TBC


	2. One Flew Into the Cuckoo's NEST

_**Same Side**_

_**---  
**_

AN: These chapters require a lot of communication. Action-lovers, please be patient while I set up the story's perimeter. Back away from the X button. Back _away_, sir. Thank you.

Don't be afraid to leave a message. I don't need the ego boost or anything, but I _know_ I'm making mistakes somewhere, and would rather get them fixed ASAP. And beta readers have a hard time finding beta readers for their work. I feel like the 12-year-old pediatrician who needs a doctor. Haha. I made a funny!

* * *

-

_Chapter Two: One Flew Over the Cuckoo's NEST_

_-  
_

They arrived in Quantico eight hours later, and were immediately put inside an unmarked SUV with an uncommunicative driver. Then they left Quantico. Georgia wasn't well-known for its secret bases, but the long drive through the thick vegetation and the tinted windows gave Sheppard the impression that they weren't headed to the nearest fairgrounds.

It was a good forty-five minutes before the SUV turned onto a road that led to an immense clearing—about forty acres or bigger. They went through a gate manned by men in shades and Kevlar vests and never slowed down. Sheppard didn't bother looking around until they finally reached the center of the grouped buildings. There were towers on either side of the main building, which looked more like an enormous warehouse than anything. It wasn't all that unusual—probably the only reason McKay wasn't starting to panic. A weird underground research facility in Antarctica hadn't phased Sheppard, and something like this was cakewalk compared to flying a massive Ancient city through hyperspace.

As the SUV finally rolled to a stop in the middle of the open lot in front of the building, he exchanged a look with Ronon. McKay was too busy doing something on his PDA that he hadn't realized where they were. Sheppard nudged him with a foot. "Game's over, Rodney. Uncle Sam wants you."

"You know that's ironic, because I actually had an Uncle Sam?" the scientist shot back. He turned off the PDA. "I'm serious. Worst case of Crohns disease ever…made him, ah…difficult to deal with."

"Doesn't surprise me." Sheppard flashed a sarcastic smile, put the piles of papers he had been given to read and sign back in the compartment attached to the passenger seat, and opened the SUV's door.

The dry, dusty pavement that surrounded the main warehouse was streaked with tire tracks and…other strange marks, like something had been dragged through the thin layer of dirt on top of the road. Overhead, the sun beat down mercilessly as Sheppard climbed out of the car, shielding his eyes to get a better look at the facility. It was completely abandoned, other than the vehicles stationed out front and the handful of military personnel drifting around. There could have been personnel inside the complex, but he somehow doubted it.

A black pick-up truck that looked like something Sheppard would _like_ to drive (but honestly couldn't afford in his lifetime) and an American diesel, a Peterbilt with an interesting paint job were parked side-by-side near a quartet of figures amidst the hazy, unusually arid Georgia heat. When Sheppard had first thought Quantico, he hadn't pictured this. This was almost a joke. McKay suddenly appeared next to him, squinting his eyes in the same direction. "Please tell me you're also getting a bad feeling," he said distractedly.

"Kinda," the colonel admitted. "That must be our welcoming committee. Ronon, you with us?"

"It's hot out here," came the somewhat bothered reply. Ronon was already striding past them and towards the gathering of people. Sheppard considered telling him that compared to Georgia, Arizona was about ten or fifteen degrees hotter (not to mention a _lot_ drier), but it probably wasn't a good idea to give him a bad impression of Earth. Or give McKay the opportunity to boast about Ontario's milder climate—minus the six month winters, naturally.

"Hey there," he greeted the strangers once he'd crossed the paved lot. One of the four men faced him, a mid-thirties Major of the US Army, Sheppard noted. He had roughly hewn, short brown hair and an unshaven appearance. He kind of liked him already.

"Lieutenant Colonel Sheppard, I presume," said the unshaven one, saluting him. Sheppard was used to salutes between military offices on board Atlantis, because of its international and global impact. This just felt strange. "I'm Major William Lennox, liaison and co-founder of NEST, which you may now know is a classified military program based in Diego Garcia. I'm hoping you've already signed the disclosure agreements."

"Yeah." Sheppard offered him a hand, which the Major shook. "Signed it on the drive over. Had a nice, six-and-a-half flight to give it some thought. Didn't have any coins on me." He jerked his head towards the parked vehicles. "Nice trucks you got there."

Lennox exchanged glances with the soldier standing next to him, a smooth-scalped African-American Sergeant with a wide grin plastered across his face. He then looked at the two trucks, and Sheppard swore his smirk got even wider. "Well thank you, Colonel, that's a mighty fine compliment. This is Sergeant Epps, and Drs. Petr Andronov and Kami Ishihari. I couldn't' stop them from tagging along—see, Petr's been wanting to meet you for some time, and Ishitari…well, you just can't say 'no' to her."

"I'll bet," remarked the Colonel. He slapped a surprised Rodney on the shoulder. "And this here is Dr. McKay, and that's Ronon. You all probably know more about us than we know about you, so let's start with the basics: where are we, and where is everyone?"

"We'll get to the first one later. This is a remote facility, formerly used for the production and storage of military explosives back in the 1970's." Lennox shuffled, glancing around at the trio of Sheppard's team. "Don't quite know why we're here either, though. It'll be our temporary base of operations until we get our heads screwed on straight. Can't tell you much more than that, because I haven't been told much myself."

"Base of what?" Rodney interjected, looking around. "This place is a ghost town. There probably isn't even running water in the bathrooms—if it _has_ bathrooms."

Lennox scratched the back of his head. "Looks can be deceiving, Dr. McKay. Can I call you McKay? I don't think it's so bad. Right, Ironhide?"

Sheppard almost flinched when a husky voice responded from inside the cab of the large pickup truck. "From what I've seen, it hardly qualifies as anything but a place to, as your race might put it, 'hide out'."

Grateful that Ronon hadn't brought his blaster along, Sheppard observed the truck for a minute, before smirking at Major Lennox. The Asian scientist standing behind him had a devilish expression on her face, arms folded expectantly. "Impressive," the colonel said. "Hardwiring the radio to do that. If I'd known someone else was listening, I'd have said 'hello'."

"Trust me, Colonel, they're probably used to it by now. In any case, I've been given authorization to let you meet some of the members of this team you're about to join for whatever mission they've got planned for us—you must be pretty damned reputable, Colonel. Not a whole lot of people get to see this sort of thing."

"It's fair to say I've had a good share of 'classified', but thank you. I'll take that as a compliment."

Lennox extended a hand towards the trucks. "Yeah, sure. Optimus, why don't we break the ice?"

"It would be wise for the Lieutenant Colonel and his colleagues to allow us additional space to do so," came another voice, a deeper one with a strangely noble accent to it. This time, it came from the speakers inside the diesel truck. Compliantly, Sheppard turned around and walked a few paces away from the assembled vehicles. McKay and Ronon followed suit, and he noticed with a twinge that the big Satedan was looking both bored and impatient.

That all changed, of course, when the blue-and-red Peterbilt began to move. In every direction.

Sheppard had seen some crazy things since he joined the Atlantis expedition, what with getting mixed up with the defense of Earth from intergalactic alien threats, but this took the cake on _strange_. Every single part of the large truck began to shift and slide every which way—all at once. In a matter of seconds, it was nothing more than an inspiring block of moving parts, rapidly getting taller and…well, unfolding into something. And by something, it was something _else_. Three seconds later, a humanoid, thirty-foot tall robot stood there, looking down at the group with calculating and patient blue eyes. Sheppard was in so much of a stupor, he didn't even notice the black pickup transforming beside the larger robot. Not there were _two_ enormous machines looking at him. And all he could think of was how glad he felt that Ronon _didn't_ have his blaster with him.

"Greetings," said the larger of the two mechanical…beings? He continued, in what sounded like a well-rehearsed introduction. "My name is Optimus Prime, leader of the Autobots. This is my weapons' specialist, Ironhide. We are autonomous robotic lifeforms from a planet called Cybertron, and allies of Earths' governments in a project known as NEST." As an apparent afterthought, he added, "It is a pleasure to meet you."

"You've been working on that 'small talk' thing, haven't you?" Lennox asked the towering robot conversationally. "I'm trying to warn you, big guy. That's one of humanity's quirks that even we can do without."

"That's just 'cause you're an anti-social gun-hermit," Epps spoke up for the first time, in a way that was almost accusatory. "No gift of communication whatsoever. I wonder why I even like you sometimes."

"This is fun," interjected the black robot, Ironhide, sounding anything but amused. "While Ratchet and the Twins are performing _true _Autobot duties, _we_ are entertaining new humans as though we were specimens."

"Hey, hey," Sheppard cut in, snapping out of his daze. "The 'new humans' happen to have a lot of experience dealing with…strange alien encounters, so let's not jump to conclusions. Can't say I was expecting this to happen. It's a pleasure to meet you anyway. Optimus, was it?"

"Indeed," said the Autobot leader. His illuminated eyes turned on his cohort. "Ironhide, once again I remind you that this is a diplomatic mission that will impact our coalition with the humans for a long time. I admit I have not heard much about this 'Stargate' program of yours, Colonel Sheppard, though I have little doubt that it will be an interesting exchange."

"Well, it's not exactly _my_ program, but maybe you're right." He looked over at McKay, who was paler than usual. "You gonna be okay, Rodney?"

"I…I think so."

Sheppard flashed a grin at the Autobots. "He's not too keen on making big alien friends, but he's probably the smartest guy on Earth. And don't worry if Ronon's a little off-standish. It takes a little time to get to know him."

"What are you talking about?" said the Satedan, with a grin. "This is the greatest thing I've ever seen happen on your planet. I like it here."

"There, you see?" For a moment, the colonel shielded his eyes against the sun to look up at Optimus Prime. "Not that I'm doubting or anything, but the kind of aliens I'm used to look a little different than you."

"By your standards, we may be called as such," came the reply, assigned with a nod. "Although by Cybertronian standards, our race no longer has a native world where we will not be considered 'aliens', as we now live among scattered regions of the galaxy in search of our own."

That made McKay's eyes widen a little. Not surprisingly, having a twenty-five thousand pound robot talk to him from almost three stories above his head made him uncomfortable. "That sounds…pretty rough." Apparently realizing the embarrassing understatement, he winced. "Uh, sorry."

"S'okay," Ronon commented with a bare shrug. "I'm an alien, too." The fact that he was so easygoing about the whole thing was making Sheppard feel like an extra leg in a three-legged race.

"This is all fantastic news, but I propose we keep talking indoors," Lennox proposed. "NORAD spent two months outfitting this place to be a half-decent, if only conveniently temporary HQ. Obviously something bigger than all of us—no offense, Autobots—is going down and we're all about to find out what that is."

"Major Lennox, we were supposed to wait for Mr. Woolsey and Galloway before entering the premises," Petr Andronov reminded him. He reminded Sheppard of Radek, or at least the way Radek used to be before being dragged offworld a few dozen times.

"You woulda thought dropping him out of plane would tell that guy where he can stick his—" Epps was abruptly cut off by Lennox's meaningful glare. "Alright, we'll wait inside."

Lennox turned and waved to someone on the roof of the warehouse building, a man in army colours with a rifle in his hands. The soldier nodded, and made some familiar hand signals to someone else on the roof, out of sight. A moment later, the wall of the warehouse popped open with a loud, hydraulic hiss and began to slide open. It could have been one of the biggest, best camouflaged doors Sheppard had ever seen.

Which didn't even compare to what was inside the 'warehouse'. As the enormous door parted, a hangar came into view—but not any hangar, it was a hangar armed to the _teeth_. Four modified Metsmans turrets towered just inside the entrance, accompanied by four armed military personnel with yet more Army patches to identify their ranks. Behind those turret posts was another gate of sorts, only this time it stretched from floor to ceiling and spanned between two large, glowing poles. The poles created a semi-transparent electromagnetic barrier (he would find out from McKay later on) that had Asgard written all over it. Behind that…no, it couldn't be—but it was. Even beyond the energy barrier, he could see a command center of sorts, and right in the middle of it all—the Stargate. Earth's Stargate, or at least the one they found in Antarctica. The one that was supposed to be taken to storage.

McKay made an audible sound of annoyance when he saw it. "I've been swindled. I can't believe this—they put me on _scrub_ duty! So much for the 'gate on Atlantis!"

Sheppard looked first over at Lennox to gauge his reaction, which was little more than a raised eyebrow and a low whistle. Then he looked at the so-called Autobots, but reading their expressions wasn't exactly easy, since he didn't even know what to look for.

"This facility appears to have some rather advanced equipment," Optimus remarked observantly, ducking his head down slightly to peer inside. "I do not believe I have seen some of this technology used by your armies before, Major Lennox."

"Hmmm," Ironhide echoed. He didn't have to duck, but he was staring at the numerous weapons trained on the front gate intently. "Parts of these automated firing mechanisms appear to be haphazardly altered to incorporate high energy phasing rounds. This is most certainly beyond the capabilities of your weaponry. Is there something we do not know, perhaps?"

The cautionary tone in the Autobot's voice alerted Sheppard's sixth 'do not let the shit hit the fan' sense. "I'm guessing you haven't heard much about the Stargate Program and its perks. What do you think, Rodney? Asgard or Ancient?"

"Um, Asgard?" the astrophysicist snorted, gesturing at the entire building. "You see that barrier? Before we met the little gray guys, we couldn't make something a _hundredth_ that size without a nuclear-powered battery. The Ancients version of a barrier was a little more sophisticated and…uh, we haven't quite figured out how to replicate the technology to work with our generators. Outside Atlantis…that is."

Optimus Prime was now looking at him with reservation. "You have established contact with other sentient species from this galaxy before? We were never informed of this."

"That's because the President didn't want there to be any…'conflicted extraterrestrial negotiations'," said a somewhat peeved, if familiar voice. None other than the leader of the Atlantis expedition, Woolsey himself was approaching them from innards of the facility. "Hello, Colonel. Major, Doctors. Optimus Prime, I assume? And you must be Ironhide. I've seen the debriefing videos, but I must say you're much taller in person."

The awkward jest was lost on the Autobots. For the first time in a long time, Optimus was regarding the humans with a careful disposition. Even the newcomers felt it. "We must talk," he stated simply.

"Oh, we will. I managed to keep that political viper, Galloway occupied with some IOA business," Mr. Woolsey offered, waving away the two soldiers that had accompanied him outside. "Gentlemen, while I may not be a ranking official in the military's eyes, I _am _one of the directors of this Stargate facility. When I say 'leave me to my business', I mean it." Sharing conspicuous glances, the guards slowly backed away from the director, turned, and went back inside. Straightening his tie, Woolsey returned his attention forward.

"You are also representative of your government's leadership, yet you act unlike the others we have encountered," Optimus observed. "It appears we still have very much to learn from each other."

"I don't mind," Woolsey replied with a surprisingly fearless smile. "Commanding a military outpost in another galaxy as a civilian defender changes a man. I dare say for the better. General O'Neil and Secretary Keller are both waiting for you to join them in the briefing hall. Oh, don't worry about the barrier. It's perfectly safe to pass through so long as your DNA—or in the Autobot's case, ID signature fits the database. Yours, of course, has already been added. Otherwise you would get…well, sliced in half."

No one moved or spoke for a few seconds, where the only sound to be heard was the distant hissing of the desert wind. Then Sheppard narrowed his eyes at Woolsey. "Just how 'changed' are we talking here…?"

"Let us not keep the Secretary waiting, shall we?" Woolsey said, ignoring the question. Then he half-grinned, apparently because he was having more fun than he ever had, being the leader of the Atlantis expedition. "Oh, and…welcome to the Compound, everyone. I know it's not the most formal collaboration in history, but with what we're heading into…" His smile dropped a little. "We hope it's enough."

---

TBC


	3. Sudden Impart

**_Same Side_**

**---**

**AN: **Next chapter promises a lot of action. And evil things. And kick-butt robot fights. Did I mention the butt-kicking?

Yes, you notice by now my creative chapter titles. I have more fun with these than I do writing the story. Haha. I am subtle. Yes.

* * *

-

_Chapter Three: Sudden Impart_

_-  
_

Sheppard wondered if stepping through the energy field would give him cancer. A few minutes after that, he began to wonder how anyone managed to get all this equipment out into the middle of nowhere and set up a top-secret facility without any of the locals noticing. Then he starting thinking about robots. He'd never been one of those little kids that thought the little robot toys were cool—that being McKay's department—but having two of them, weighing a combined fifteen to twenty five tons of solid metal suddenly transform behind you…well, let's just say that when he turned around and found the grill of a very large eighteen-wheeler a few feet away, he was a little surprised. The rattle of the diesel engine made him continue to wonder just how far these aliens had practiced their disguises. How many 'Autobots' had he met before, really?

Lennox watched Sheppard and his cohorts with mixed thoughts. Optimus and Ironhide had to revert to their vehicle modes in order to fit inside the narrow gate and enter the Compound safely. Not one of them acted surprised, but the weird looks Colonel Sheppard was throwing out reminded him of how he used to be when he was briefed about NBE-1. Dr. McKay, even though he was obviously more wary than his military counterpart, looked more fascinated than anxious.

Entering the center of the enormous warehouse, both sides of the team found themselves immersed in a soft crowd of at least three dozen scientists, techs and soldiers from every military detachment in the United States of America—and then some. Lennox hadn't failed to notice the Canadian flag patched on Dr. McKay's uniform, which explained why he wasn't dressed in civvies. Civilian or not, the doctor obviously had to be part of something if they were walking around in matching outfits.

Sheppard, seeing the major glancing over their uniforms, slowed down to let him catch up. "Sorry we didn't have time to change," he said with a forced, conversational tone. "Technically, since we're still on active duty, the dress code's kinda strict. Except for Ronon. The whole 'being alien' thing lets him get away with a lot."

"You're just jealous," said Ronon, walking behind them.

The entire facility seemed to be based around the object in the center—a strange, ornate ring that looked just wide enough to fit…well, a Peterbilt truck. Whatever it was, the fact that there were four techs surrounding it, doing _something_, made it important. But now Mr. Woolsey was walking away from the array of equipment and towards what looked like an elevated loft—or an indoor tower, with a rickety-looking staircase leading up to the boxed-in room on the second level. And not just any room, but a room with three walls instead of four. Lennox knew they'd left one out to make it a lot easier to include the Autobots in whatever meetings were being held inside, since they had something a little similar back on the atoll in Diego Garcia.

As the group of smaller bipeds started to climb the staircase, both Autobots peeled away and rolled to the open area next to the loft. When they started to transform back into their _larger_ bipedal forms, the reactions from about half of the attending staff made it obvious; most of these people hadn't seen this before. Debriefed, informed, maybe, but still green.

Sheppard's team and Lennox's team both filed into the loft, where they were met by an oval table and two men. One, Lennox recognized as Secretary Keller, who he hadn't seen in a rather long time. The Secretary of Defense gave him a grim smile. Then there was the United States Air Force General standing there with a skewed expression. There was something familiar about him.

"General O'Neil," Sheppard broke the new silence with a curt nod and a salute. "Fancy meeting you here. I take it you're the man behind the curtain?"

"Only if you're wearing your ruby slippers," the general replied, eyeing him. McKay just covered his eyes and sighed at their behavior.

"Thank you for coming on such short notice, Major Lennox," Keller started, moving to stand at the end the table, in front of a large screen. "Please, everyone, take a seat. Sorry I can't offer the same, Autobots."

"As always, the option to stand during these proceedings is not only preferred, but necessary," came the booming voice from just outside the loft. They were now more-or-less level with the Autobot leader's face, though the loft was more or less at Ironhide's level. In addition, the enclosed warehouse made Optimus's voice sound nearly twice as loud as it had been before, though it was clear he was speaking just above the equivalent of a human whisper.

"Kind of has a way of humbling you, doesn't it?" O'Neil said, stating the obvious.

Sheppard almost rolled his eyes. "Welllll, _some _of us can use that 'humbling' experience."

"Hilarious," drawled McKay, sitting next to the colonel.

"What? I was talking about Ronon."

"As you no doubt have deduced just by the Compound's existence, there has been a plan long in making to introduce the Stargate Program into NEST territory, and vice versa," Secretary Keller began to explain. A pleasant-looking woman in her mid-forties came into the room at that moment to distribute a few pitchers of water and a stack of glasses. Ronon was the first to jump on that.

"First off, I apologize for the need for so much secrecy. The files you have all received prior to this meeting were constructed to detail only a fraction of information about each of your programs. We did this in order to prevent more than the necessary amount of information from falling into the wrong hands. Even now, we're treading on a very delicate line of breaching protocols and changing rules that were never meant to be broken."

"With all due respect, Mr. Secretary—that's been happening a lot since Mission City," Lennox put in, to which Epps agreed with an understanding nod.

"I'm well aware of that, Major," said Keller. "I suppose I'll let General O'Neil get straight to the point before we go any further."

"Hi," said the general in question, lifting a hand in a short, precise wave. "My name's General Jack O'Neil, head of the Department of Homeworld Security. Most of you can just call me Jack. The point is, Earth is about to be invaded by the Wraith."

Five seconds of pregnant silence was broken by an exasperated groan. "I knew it," said McKay.

Lennox raised his eyebrows. "Excuse me…Wraith?"

"We'll get to that." O'Neil picked up a remote off the table and turned on the screen behind him. The image of a very large, nasty-looking vessel appeared. "This is an advanced Hive Ship. Some of you have seen one before. Some of you from the inside." Sheppard's team shared a mental wince. "One of our outposts on planet PY9-716 confirmed that _two_ of these bad boys are a few days from reaching the edge of our galaxy. And with them, they're brining _six_ of these," he added, and hit a button. A Wraith cruiser appeared. "Only they're also bigger, better, and armed with more weapons than three aircraft carriers."

"More aliens," Ironhide commented darkly. "I should have known there was more to you humans than you have shown us."

"Easy, Ironhide," Optimus warned.

"If I'm getting this straight," said Lennox, pointing at the screen. "We're talking about some _other_ alien race that doesn't like Earth? As in, another extra-terrestrial threat on _top_ of the Decepticons?"

"Well, first of all," O'Neil said with a quirked brow. "They are most definitely _not _the _only_ alien threat Earth has encountered in the past decade, and second: these particular aliens _love_ Earth. We're their Holy Grail. The Mardi Gras. Hamburger Helper."

"There is a top secret military operation called the Stargate Program," Keller went on to explain a little hesitantly. "For twelve years, we have been exploring our galaxy through the means of a device called a 'Stargate', which you've seen on your way in here."

"…which an extinct, super-advanced race called the Ancients built millions of years ago, and left behind for us, their descendants to make use of…or not." McKay trailed off for a second once all eyes, including those of the Autobots were on him. He cleared his throat. "We've done a lot of…exploration, I mean. In fact, we found a way to get to Atlantis, an Ancient city in the Pegasus Galaxy. That's where we've been for the past five years, trying to _not_ get eaten by the life-sucking Wraith, who are apparently don't know when to quit."

"Why were we never informed of the existence of your Stargate Program?" Optimus wanted to know.

"Because until now, our world leaders weren't sure on how you would react to the knowledge that we humans have alien technology at our disposal." Keller sighed and sat down, pouring himself a glass of water. "It also increased the risk of exposing _your_ existence to the Ori, or the Goauld, or the Replicators…assuming they don't already know about you. I don't suppose you had any knowledge of other sentient life in this galaxy?"

There was a pause on Optimus' end, before he replied. "Our kind has travelled to many parts of this galaxy in search of the Allspark, and in search of each other. However, we have only truly explored some small degree of the millions of existing star systems, and to my knowledge no such encounters with intelligent life have occurred. Until Earth, that is."

"I'm beginning to think more and more that that damned cube _knew_ where it was heading," said Epps with the edge of frustration. "Millions of star systems? And it just happens to land on ours? Damn."

Sheppard narrowed his eyes, leaned back and cross his arms. "Okay…now _I'm_ confused."

"As a matter of fact, so am I," said Lennox. "I'm not complaining here, but what exactly does NEST have to do with this? If keeping both sides in the dark about each other was so damned important, why now?"

Jack O'Neil looked at Secretary Keller, both men exchanging knowing looks. "Because," O'Neil started, pointing the remote at the screen again. "Only minutes _after_ our Beta site transmitted their data on the impending _Wraith_ attack, their outpost was destroyed. By _this_."

The viewing screen flickered again, this time showing a slightly blurred video of a fast-moving machine. Even with the terrible recording quality, it was obvious that what they were seeing was another one of the autonomous robots unleashing a devastating arsenal on the encampment and slaughtering its inhabitants.

When the image finally stopped, freezing on the view of the machine's triangular face and glowing red eyes, no one said anything until Optimus spoke up.

"Cyclonus." The name was spoken with what passed as ire for the Autobot leader. "I knew he would not have had the audacity to fall in battle along with his brothers. He is a saboteur strongly loyal to Megatron, with no regard for life other than his own. He exists only to destroy."

"Which might explain why he was so good at it," said Keller. "This Decepticon left very little behind. We were lucky to recover this recording, but…needless to say, there were no survivors. At this time, though we have no reason to believe the Wraith and Decepticons are working together, the President ordered that the best of each of your teams be assembled to assess the next best course of action. Colonel Sheppard, you and your team from Atlantis have had the most experience in dealing with Wraith, and our NEST allies provide us with much needed defense against Decepticon threats."

"Sounds like the galaxy's getting a little crowded," Sheppard pointed out, but there was no humour in the statement. "Heck, we managed to blow up _one_ super Hive, how hard can it be to take out another two or seven?"

"We don't actually plan on letting the Wraith _get_ here this time," said O'Neil, a little annoyed. "Now I don't believe in coincidences." He pointed at the screen. "Now that Decepticon…thingy, destroyed a perfectly good Beta site filled with lots of good people. _After_ they warned us about the Wraith coming. If that doesn't make them war buddies, I don't know _what_ does."

"I am certain Cyclonus intercepted the transmission back to Earth and took action against the humans simply because they were there." Optimus sounded grim. "He has no doubt already found his way here and joined Megatron."

"Then we can also assume that the Decepticons know about the Wraith," Woolsey spoke for the first time in a while. "If that's the case, they very well may rally against us. A force that formidable would be almost impossible to defend against."

"The likelihood of Megatron forming an alliance with any other species, no matter what he stands to gain, is small." The Autobot leader lifted a large hand, palm upward. A holographic image appeared on its surface. It showed a rather normal-looking green, blue and grey planet. As he spoke, red, fiery dots appeared all over its surface like so many boils, until the planet turned grey with dust clouds, then brown and clearly barren. "The last race to betray the trust of the Decepticons faced complete annihilation at the mercy of Megatron's army. This is what we Autobots believe to be one of the greatest catalysts to his fall and bitter hatred for all remaining life in the galaxy."

"Maybe we'll get lucky and they'll take care of the Wraith for us," said Sheppard. "The enemy of my enemy is also my enemy, and so forth."

McKay gave him a prying glance. "You just love to make this stuff up, don't you?"

"Megatron would never go out of his way to destroy a foe bent on the destruction of humans," Ironhide pointed out. "We may yet find ourselves in the middle of a struggle for dominance, Optimus. Is this really our fight?"

"Even if Cyclonus had not involved himself in the affairs of the human outpost," Optimus replied sternly. "If there is a war coming to Earth, then it is on the side of the humans we will fight."

"But I do not see why—

"Then ask yourself this: what would Sam do if he stood where we stand today?" It was a rare thing, hearing Optimus reprimand one of his closest comrades. Every last one of the humans remained silent. "How many innocent lives will be lost as a result of abandoning Earth in its darkest hour? You dwell on what it is we might lose in our alliance with humanity, but in abandoning our allies, we lose the right to call ourselves Autobots."

That profound declaration silenced Ironhide, and apparently made an impact of the 'human allies' as well. Before the following silence could get awkward, O'Neil clicked the remote again. "No matter what we're up against, if _these_," he went on, pointing at the scattered dots on the screen, obviously signifying the oncoming Wraith vessels, "—come anywhere near Earth, I can guarantee there won't be much left of the human race to ally _with_. Unlike Deceptions, the Wraith don't want to _destroy_ us, they'd like to _eat_ us."

Lennox looked bemused. "Did I just hear that correctly? Epps, did you hear that?"

"These 'Wraith' you speak of prey on humans? A race of sentient lifeforms devouring another?" Ironhide, not unusually, sounded skeptical again. His blue optics looked between Sheppard's team and O'Neil. "That is something I would have to see to believe."

Wordlessly, as though he'd expected that response, General O'Neil hit another button on the remote. Another video popped onto the screen, this time far clearer than the last and unfortunately accompanied by an audio recording. While Sheppard instantly recognized one of the teams he'd lost to the Wraith six months into the expedition, no one else knew what was coming. Lieutenant Bradley was filming one of his teammates gather plant specimens from the brush, when a blur attacked them from the left side of the screen. There was ten seconds or so of Wraith stunner shots, yelling, hissing, screaming and gunfire. Then the camera dropped to the ground, fixed on an almost theatrical view of a stringy-haired Wraith with its hand crushed against the chest of Lieutenant Bradley, sucking the life straight out of his body. Luckily the volume was turned down, or his screams would have caused half of the Compound to come running to investigate. The video stopped only when the Wraith dropped Bradley's shrunken corpse, and moved on to its next victim off-screen.

There was no interpreting either Optimus' or Ironhide's reaction to the recording. Had they been human, the Autobots' expressions could have expressed shock and pity, or simple disbelief, or even repulsion. Optimus especially appeared as though he strongly disliked what he just saw.

O'Neil turned the screen off. "It's not a matter of _if_ the Wraith are coming to Earth, it's _when_. Like most good enemies, we're expecting Megatron and his buddies to take advantage of our conflict with the Wraith and try to outflank us. That's why it's so important that we intercept and disable their ships before that happens."

"Now you're making sense." Lennox shook a finger at the general. "Megatron's forces are crippled. He's running out of resources and probably needs a few more soldiers on his side. If he's given the opportunity to hit us when we're distracted, he'll do it. And win, if we're don't outsmart him."

"Outsmart, _and_ outmaneuver," O'Neil corrected. "We've got the trump card: the Stargate. Basically, we can access almost every section of this galaxy within a few, oh, say…_thousand_ lightyears using the SGC's database."

"…and fight them when they land their cruisers to cull planets on their way to Earth!" McKay finished, cluing in. "We did that _exact_ thing when the first three Hive Ships came to Atlantis…well, sort of."

"Close, but no cigar, Dr. McKay." Surprisingly, O'Neil sounded almost triumphant when he said that. "When I said they're on their way to Earth, I mean they're pointed in our direction. Beta site monitored them for a few days, while their cruisers jumped around a few dozen solar systems for no apparent reason. They're _looking_ for something. Us. Earth. And if they find _one_ planet inhabited by Jaffa or even Goauld, they're probably going to get that information."

"But that's great," McKay was quick to point out. "That gives us a lot more time to take care of them, right? I mean, the whole purpose is to keep them away from Earth and all."

"We don't relish the idea of allowing these Wraith to cull the Jaffa worlds, or other inhabited planets while we stand idly by," Woolsey reminded him. "The Wraith's weakness is that they _must_ cull planets in order to sustain their massive population, and when they do, we'll be there to destroy them. At the very least, it'll bring down their numbers to a manageable firefight for the Daedalus, Odyssey and Korolev."

"A strike team, huh?" said Sheppard. "Normally, I'd be expressing how doubtful I am that _any_ resistance on our part is practically suicide against a fully-armed Wraith cruiser. Assuming we get a few Autobots on our side and a coupla Jumpers, our odds look a little better."

"Last time I checked, we've given the Decepticons a few bad memories, too," Lennox agreed with a slight smirk. "Hey, if it's to save Earth from inevitable disaster, count us in. You've got our support. But only if Optimus is sure he wants to get the Autobots involved."

"Whatever the stakes are, we are ready," said Optimus.

"Then starting today, this Compound will be our grounds for all operations concerning the defense of Earth against the Wraith and Decepticons, until the Stargate is no longer needed." The Secretary of Defense stood up from his chair. "We only established the Compound here because it would have proven difficult to an Autobot into Cheyenne Mountain. And we will tear it down once the threat has been neutralized."

"Oh," McKay said, a little distractedly. "So then…"

"Yes, all of your Stargate protocols will then be transferred to Atlantis, as was the original plan." Keller's expression was that of impatient glamour, because he not yet used to dealing with a scientist as difficult as this one. "Now then, if you'll excuse me, I have a cabinet meeting in three hours that I'm not allowed to miss. It's your floor, General O'Neil, Mr. Woolsey."

"You'll be assigned temporary quarters in just a few minutes," said Woolsey once the secretary had left the meeting. "Most of your personal effects are already being transferred over from Atlantis as we speak. Your first mission briefing is at eight hundred hours tomorrow morning, so it would be wise to get settled in quickly. We plan to begin our reconnaissance sweeps later this evening—in fact, teams are already being assembled to survey the known solar systems closest to the Wraith's current position."

"A hop, skip and a jump, then." Sheppard stood up and stretched. "I gotta admit, I do sort of miss dragging your guys around the galaxy to fight the Wraith."

"If I believed you for a second, this friendship as we know it would be over," McKay interjected as he gathered his PDA and his jacket and also stood. He then frowned at Ronon. "Oh, I can't believe he actually fell asleep…"

"Ah, leave him be. Even tough guys get jet lag." He glanced over at the spot where the Autobots had been standing, and saw Optimus turning away to supposedly transform back into his vehicle form. The colonel grabbed his jacket and hurried over to the railing that overlooked the warehouse. "Hey, uh…Optimus. There's something I need to ask you…" Quickly, he opened the door to the staircase and trotted down to the main floor, where the Autobot leader was waiting for him.

Lennox grabbed the nearest pitcher and poured himself a drink of lukewarm water. He felt Epps sigh next to him, more than he heard it. "Yeah, I know how you feel," he said to his best friend. "Beat down one enemy, another pops up. Pretty soon the whole planet's going to be involved."

"Whatever. So long as I don't have to share my bunk with these guys. I'm gonna have nightmares about those Wraith things for months."

The major downed his pretend scotch in one gulp. "You and me both, Epps. You and me both."

* * *

-

TBC


	4. Galaxy Quest

_**Same Side**_

_**---**_

**AN:** Mudflap and Skids happen to be two of my favorite Autobots from the movieverse…thus, they will get a debut in this story like no other. I'm aware of the 'controversy', but I believe none of it applies. They are cool. This is truth.

And I'm running out of movie titles…

* * *

-

_Chapter Four: Galaxy Quest_

-

The Compound was not as aptly named as would have been convenient. The SGC was a compound. Usually the word 'compound' insinuated something with multiple parts, a collaboration of rooms or separate entities that formed a whole. Well, the Compound was barely more than a modified warehouse and motel.

The hangar with the Stargate was divided into the main holding area, with the command center inside the loft, and a section for the engineering crew to work—which happened to be one of the most heavily defended parts of the old military base. Those weapons and turrets had to be controlled from somewhere. The security system kept the Compound safe, and the system had to be protected.

As it turned out, they were staying in a group of 'upgraded' storage bunkers for the more highly volatile explosives they developed back in the 70's. They'd been assured that they had been fully cleared for traces of radiation or other potentially deadly threats caused by the bunkers' previous occupants, which was about as comforting as it would get. After the Genii, Sheppard could have cared less if he ended up sleeping on top of a live nuclear reactor. In a radiation suit, of course.

Other than that, there was another warehouse—a smaller one, much emptier inside but just as fortified by guys with guns and more modified turrets. And snipers. And more than a dozen surveillance cameras. This is where the Autobots were staying for the duration of their involvement in the Compound. For world security reasons, they wouldn't reveal how many Autobots were actually allied with NEST, but Optimus had made it clear that many would stay behind in Diego Garcia 'just in case' there was an incident on Earth, not to mention that there were other NEST operations going on in other places around the world.

Sheppard stood outside the bunkers, ignoring the sheets of dust that flew into the air and brushed against his skin (this wasn't exactly normal Georgia weather, but what the hell). He glanced up at the sun and then checked his watch: seven fifteen A.M. Rodney was 'helping' the technicians inside Compound 1 prep the 'gate for its first new location startup, which still left him short a team member. Where the heck was Ronon, anyway?

As if on cue, the sound of a muffled crash and distorted bickering voices came from the depths Autobots' abode. His sixth sense told him that of all places, that that one he hadn't checked yet was _probably_ where Ronon went.

The colonel jogged across the pavement toward the open warehouse door. Ignoring the thirteen different barrels pointed at him (in a non-threatening way) as he entered, he slowed to a stop to observe.

Ironhide, in his bipedal form, was standing near the wall to his left, looking down on the mixture of flesh and dust in front of him. Ronon was locked in heated hand-to-hand fists-only combat with Sergeant Epps. And behind _them_ were two more Autobots, quite a bit smaller than the dubious weapons specialist. Even though he'd known there were more of these guys being flown in the night before, Sheppard felt caught…well, off guard. They were identical to each other—almost—except for colour. The bright green one was boxing the red one around, trying to push him towards Ironhide. And the red one was shoving back, which explained the crunching and bashing of metal Sheppard had heard earlier.

"Mudflap, you betta take that back! That's discrimination!"

"I'm not takin' nothin' back, you crazy green scrapheap! You was askin' for it, talkin' trash about my skills."

"_Your_ skills, huh? If I ain't been there half the time you get hit, you'd be _dead_, motha—ey!" When Epps was side-tackled by Ronon and thrown over his shoulder, the sergeant happened to land on Skids' foot. The Autobot stood on one leg and let the soldier roll off of him. "Ya'll askin' to put an eye out on my servos, foo! Then Optimus'd kick _all_ our afts."

Lennox also happened to be there, standing on the sidelines with Ironhide. Sheppard walked towards the commotion with a raised eyebrow, but no one seemed to notice him. Ronon and Epps went back to exchanging heavily pulled blows.

"You two," Ironhide interrupted the Twins' bickering, glaring at the two. "Are becoming increasingly difficult to babysit. As your ranking officer, I am ordering you both to transform and _shut up_."

"Aw, man, Ironhide, but he's the—" Skids started to complain, but Ironhide leaned in close.

"Before I get angry."

"Always gettin' up in ou' grills on mission day, you cheap-aft son-of-a—" Whatever the green Autobot had to say was cut off when he quickly shifted into his Chevrolet Beat, alongside his transformed brother. Half a second later, Mudflap opened his driver-side door and smacked the car next to him. "Hey, you can't do that! Tha's a low blow, mo-fo!"

"Well, I'm glad to see everyone's getting along," Sheppard spoke up, approaching Lennox and Ironhide from the left side of the imaginary boxing ring. "So what happened?"

"The so-called 'alien' comrade of yours proposed a challenge to Sergeant Epps," Ironhide explained with an obvious undertone of critique. "While a test of marksmanship would have provided more entertainment, this is still rather fun to watch."

"Only they've been going at it for an hour now," Lennox put in, looking at his own watch. "I made a bet with Ironhide that I think I'm about to lose."

"Ah, you bet against Ronon." Sheppard crossed his arms and watched the sparring continue. "This guy kicks the crap out of me twice a week. I only came close to beating him once. I was pumped full of alien insect DNA."

Epps, who apparently heard this through his competition, made an audible sound of disapproval. "Man, why didn't someone _tell_ me that before I put my money on this?"

"I don't know, Epps. Maybe you should fix that little gambling problem of yours." Major Lennox looked like he was enjoying himself. "Come on, just let him win. He's not even breaking a sweat."

"Are you serious?" Epps made the mistake of getting distracted, and found himself laying flat on his back a second later. Groaning, he turned over and put his hands underneath him as Ronon waltzed over.

"Need a hand?" he offered. Looking annoyed, but not angry, the sergeant got to his feet after grabbing the offered appendage. He put a hand on his back and grimaced. "Where the _hell_ did you learn those moves?"

"In training. When I was five," came the honest reply. "You fight better than most soldiers I've met before."

Sheppard smiled sarcastically. "_Thanks_."

"Pay up." Ironhide lowered one of his large hands in front of Lennox, looking for all purposes, _smug_. "This bet is mine."

Lennox begrudgingly took out his wallet, as did Epps (from his left cheek pocket). Both placed a crisp twenty-dollar bill on the metal palm and put their stashes away again. "_Last_ time I gamble with a robot. Seriously this time," Epps muttered.

"Not to be rude, but…what exactly do you need money for, anyway?" Sheppard questioned, looking up at the weapons specialist.

"Bargaining tools. Humans are much easier to deal with when presented with bits of paper of imaginary economic value."

"He buys favours from the soldiers around NEST Headquarters, he means," said Lennox with a wry smile. "'Imaginary', my ass. Tell that to the guy who writes my lousy government-issue paychecks."

"Mind if I ask who they are?" asked Sheppard, looking between the now silent Trax and Beat cars.

"_These_ guys," Lennox said with a wry grin, slapping the top of the red one. The annoyed Autobot's 'Don't touch me, I'm mad at choo!' went ignored. "Are the Twins. Red is Mudflap, green, Skids. Believe it or not, their specialty is infiltration. And distractions."

"Distract—" Mudflaps offended voice came from the speakers. "Aww, thats mean. We _owned_ that big-aft robot monkey. Didn' we, Skids?"

"Yeah, until you went an' shot me in the _face_!" the green Autobot shot back.

Shaking his head, Ironhide stepped back to make the unrushed transformation back into his alternate mode. Then he opened both of his doors. "It is getting late. I will take you to the Compound so that we may get this mission _started_, while there's a chance I might retain my sanity."

"Don't choo count on it," Mudflap quipped, and his passenger door shot open. "A'ight, fluffball. You an' dreads get in. We'll make ou' _own_ team right back up in the 'Kick yo ass' club, where we the only V.I.P."

Lennox, halfway into Ironhide's cab, raised his brow at Sheppard and Ronon. "Whatever you do, don't agree with anything they say." He looked at his watch, climbed in, and shut the door. The colonel watched the truck roll away, leaving himself and Ronon alone with the Twins.

"I've got a feeling he doesn't like me," he told his other teammate, looking at the interior of the Autobot with a wary glance before getting in. Ronon ungracefully sat down in the back and leaned forward to put his arms on the shoulders of the two front seats.

"He doesn't."

"Right. And I suppose he likes _you_."

"You want me to beat him up?"

Sheppard half-rolled his eyes. "Maybe later."

* * *

-

Riding with the Twins was fun…especially since they decided to have a race halfway across the paved lot. They arrived inside the Compound in a screech of rubber, the sound of the energy barrier crackling as its scanned them all at once, and the slam of a car door as Sheppard and Ronon barely made it out of Mudlap's cab before he transformed. The Twins were on each other again, wrestling across the open hangar floor, as human workers rushed to get out of the way.

"Autobots," Optimus' voice rang out over the sounds of the scuffle. The two brothers paused instantly, both with an oversized hand gripping each other's chest plates. "_Behave_."

They let go and mumbled apologies to the Autobot leader standing near the Stargate and its preparatory crew.

"McKay, what's going on around here?" Sheppard asked, brushing off the reckless moment he'd just shared with Ronon. Rodney happened to be tapping away at one of the laptops hooked up to the temporary power system that fed the Stargate, and he barely looked up when spoke to.

"Technically? Nothing," the astrophysicist replied, switching to the laptop behind him. He hit a single button before turning back. "Ran several diagnostics, did a test-start by dialing the Alpha site, and surprisingly there are no glitches that would make us…say, want to run away screaming in terror, such as the Stargate suddenly exploding…hypothetically."

For a moment, the colonel stared at him. "You didn't."

"Didn't? Didn't what?" Overly dramatic and fake innocent came over McKay's face.

"You _did_." Sheppard's voice raised slightly. "You stayed up all night working on the Stargate! Rodney, these guys had _months_ to make sure it's in working condition, couldn't you just give them the benefit of the doubt?"

"Hey, I _slept_," Rodney defended, then added a little quieter as he went back to work, "A little."

"We'll talk about that later. We're supposed to be getting briefed right now, so I was _kind_ of hoping you'd tell me if you got a memo I didn't."

"Unfortunately, we don't have time for the scheduled briefing, Colonel," Woolsey said, appearing from behind. He wedged his way between two scientists and stood next to them. "We just got word that our advance team is under heavy fire from the Wraith. They got cut off from the Stargate and couldn't dial-in to warn us about the cruiser landing on P2M-436 a little earlier than was expected. We sent SG4 through to assist them, but there is heavy Dart activity all over the safety zone."

Cold went through Sheppard's veins. "_What_? This whole thing was about the element of surprise!"

"Well, they seemed to know we were coming, Colonel Sheppard." In contrast to yesterday, Woolsey looked anxious and out of place. "The Stargate on their end is already active and we've got another five minutes before the cut-off. When we establish a connection, I want your team to go through immediately. Maybe, just maybe we'll get our men out of there before we suffer any serious casualties."

Not for the first time, the colonel cursed himself for not having his radio turned on since he'd woken up this morning. Technically he wasn't even on duty until eight o'lock, which was nine minutes from now. But getting mixed up in giant alien robot business was a poor excuse for not being ready for a Wraith ambush. He glared at McKay. "_Rodney_."

"I know, I know, I'm ready. Just…talk to the robots or something, okay? I've got the computer spam-dialing their Stargate, and I want to make sure it doesn't fry this crappy Pentium processor they've got running the—just gimme a minute!"

Sheppard glanced over his shoulder to see Major Lennox and Epps approaching. "Listen—"

"Heard everything, Colonel," the Nest command said. "Just tell me what to expect when we get there and my people'll take care of themselves."

"Alright, then. We're going in under the assumption that the Stargate is under Wraith control," the colonel began, raising his voice loud enough for the Autobots and whoever else might be joining them in just a few minutes. "These guys don't play around. Now if you're human, you gotta watch out for their stun weapons, because they'll exploit every chance they get to knock you down and feed on you. Don't quite know if those weapons'll work on you Autobots, but just the same. Be careful. Take down any ground units guarding the 'gate and any Darts—that's their aircraft—that come in range. Don't stand under them. They have beams that'll suck you into their ships, and there's a _real _slim chance you'll come out of that alive."

"Colonel Sheppard," Optimus spoke, slowly stepping towards the ramp that led to the Stargate. "Allow me to go through the portal first. I guarantee that any Wraith standing in my way will not pose pose a threat to this team for very long."

Hearing this, Lennox almost frowned openly. He wasn't a robot shrink. He didn't even know what went on inside the big guy's head half the time, but even since the meeting yesterday he'd had this burning itch to ask Prime about his decision. Optimus believed in freedom for all sentient beings, and these Wraith were obviously smart enough to build spaceships and traverse galaxies. It was almost as if Optimus's drive to help humanity was becoming more personal than a set standard of beliefs. What Optimus was doing was essentially choosing sides in a war brought about by humans. He _definitely _had to have a talk with him about it later.

"Look, I know what this sounds like," Sheppard said in response. A group of soldiers had already come by to bring him his gear—but the weapon felt a little odd. It was like a P-90, practically identical, but it felt heavier for some reason. He let it go. "I've got my team, and you've got yours. If you're certain you can handle this on your own, then by all means. But even if you've got a lot of weapons hidden in there somewhere, all it takes is one culling beam and you're out of the game."

There was a lapse of silence after that, and Optimus nodded his head once, slowly. "I understand."

"Thirty seconds!" McKay announced, finally abandoning the computer. He hesitantly grabbed the P-90 from his soldier supplier after wriggling into his flak jacket. Everyone's radio was on. They were armed. It was just a matter of seconds…

"Ironhide, on my six. Mudflap, Skids, you cover the humans' flank and make sure they do not get abducted," Optimus ordered, in a voice that was entirely different from his usual expression. The Autobot hastily transformed, and idled at the bottom of the ramp for a few strangling moments while his fellow robots did the same.

"Ten seconds! Fifth chevron encoded!" shouted the technician who had replaced McKay. McKay himself swallowed dryly as he stared at the empty space in the ring.

"Just like all the other times, Rodney," Sheppard reminded him.

Lennox gripped his gun firmly and side-glanced at the colonel. "Tell that to the guys who've never done this before. You're buying us drinks after this is over, Sheppard."

The colonel furled his brow. "Huh. I thought you didn't like me."

In response, the NEST commander grinned widely. Half a second later, the sevenths chevron locked and the Stargate unleashed a brilliant wave of liquid-like event horizon. Everyone set their eyes forward.

"Go! Go! Go!"

That was Sheppard, thought Optimus was already in motion. His cab, then his taillights vanished into the blue wall fearlessly, followed by Ironhide's black form. As a unit, Sheppard, McKay, Ronon, Lennox and Sergeant Epps charged forward, swept away in the turbulent mystery that was a space-bridging wormhole.

* * *

-

The instant the wormhole was established, the Wraith prepared to fire upon the humans that would undoubtedly come pouring through. It was likely they would all feast immensely that day, on the savory emotions of the long-hated Atlanteans who had been hiding on their home planet for far, far too long. Yes, they were very confident in their victory. Not even a hundred Ancient gate ships could inflict harm on them.

So when the strange blue-and-red machine appeared from the surface of the cerulean pool, they were confused. Confused, but battle trained for such things. In unison, the three dozen odd combatants opened fire on the oddly shaped weapon. Even as the energy blasts glanced off its hull, the vehicle began to change. Grow. Increase in size.

The Wraith stopped firing long enough to forget their training and stare at the mechanical being that looked down upon them with a smooth metal mask and piercing blue eyes.

Optimus raised his arms, unlocking the pulse cannons from their inner compartments. Though a twinge of guilt momentarily flickered through his spark, he knew that these creatures would prey upon the innocent human lives on Earth and devour them, as that one Wraith had to the young lieutenant on the video feed. Somehow, that was _not_ meant to be. With this resolve, he armed the cannons and pointed them at the gathered bipeds. And fired.

To his surprise, the strange energy impacts across his armor felt heavy and numbing, as though his circuitry was becoming disconnected. Even as the ground erupted under the force of his weapons, sending the Wraith scattered, he felt another such blow behind his shoulder, and involuntarily jerked forward. Eighteen percent of his motor functions went offline in his left arm. Mildly irritated, he turned on the creature that had fired and blasted the ground beneath him. Despite his conviction, he would feel better off attempting to make them flee than killing them outright.

Ironhide had arrived behind him. His now second-in-command came out of the Stargate and transformed, cannons open, charged up and ready. The moment the first Wraith blaster was turned on him, the unfortunately creature holding it was atomized by the specialist's cannon discharge.

"You wish to tangle with me, huh?" he barked, advancing through the gathering of defiant aliens. "I dare you all to try and take me! Come on, take your best shot!"

Sheppard and the human component of the team arrived just in time to listen to a Wraith dart come screaming past. It opened fire on Ironhide, the lethal energy blasts slamming into his shoulder and chest plating. It was enough to knock him back, almost back-kicking Sergeant Epps as he staggered to remain balanced. A few shards of damaged metal trickled from the glowing scour marks on Ironhide's chest, but the damage was far from crippling. In fact, it only served to make him _much _angrier.

"That was a mistake," he announced. His cannon whined as it powered up, and he spun around, aiming at the fleeing tail of the flying craft. The blast erupted the engines of the Wraith dart, splitting the craft into four pieces midair, sending smaller chunks of it raining down to the heavily forested planet below.

Sheppard pointed to the Wraith standing behind the 'gate and immediately hunkered down for cover. Lennox and Epps recognized the hand signals he waved to them and took positions behind the Stargate to shield them from some of the stunner blasts. McKay was crouched near the DHD, clasping his radio in an attempt to contact SG4 or the advance team that had gone ahead before them.

Mudflap and Skids came tearing through the Stargate, which closed behind them. They transformed in unison and also powered up their weapons, looking a _lot_ scarier than they had in the Autobot hangar back at the Compound. "A'ight, which one of ya'll wants to play with us?" said Mudflap, pointing his missiles at the Wraith grunts behind the Stargate.

These added reinforcements were enough to break the Wraith's faith in victory. The commander in their midst hissed an order to the dozen or so remaining warriors, and took off like a shot towards the trees.

"Autobots, hold your fire!" Optimus ordered loudly, disarming his weapons as the alien creatures ceased their attack and began to flee. Ironhide let loose one last shot from his cannon, before complying with a begrudging grumble. The Twins looked disappointed, but obeyed.

Sheppard, on the other hand, gunned down the first three Wraith to turn their backs on him. He continued to fire until he couldn't see them anymore, and held up a hand to silently keep Ronon from chasing after them. Lennox glanced at him with a confused look, which Sheppard ignored darkly. He reached for his radio.

"Major Riley, are you there?" he said, and was greeted by static. "SG4, do you read me?"

"Nothing," McKay gasped, looking around at the woods with a wary glint in his eye. "No communications. They must have a jamming device nearby. Maybe even on their ship, which…which is bad."

"Yeah, well, Ronon'll find them." The colonel looked up at Ironhide, who was muttering something about the Wraith Dart that he had just blown up. Obviously the Darts had enough firepower to injure these guys, but with their crappy aim, it wasn't likely that one or two shots would do any more than slightly annoy them. Or royally piss them off.

"So," Lennox spoke up. "I take it those were Wraith."

"Yeah." Sheppard shook the dust from his hair, messing it up with his fingers. "I got the feeling most of the advance team didn't get very far. If the big guys here hadn't arrived first…well, we wouldn't be standing here right now."

"They turned and ran when it was just getting interesting," Ironhide lamented, narrowing his optics at the trees for some hint of a threat. "I was expecting something much more difficult."

"Then you'll be glad to know there's a couple thousand more waiting for us on their cruiser," the colonel told him. "And now that they know we're here, we're about to get a _lot_ of company."

"Our first priority is to find this missing team of soldiers," said Major Lennox, adjusting and reloading his P90. "Then we switch to secondary objective one: destroy that alien cruiser so we have one less to deal with later on. Ironhide, you mostly functional?"

"Pah, you believe a weak _tingle_ like that could stop me? I was certain you knew me better than that."

"That's what I thought. Optimus?"

The Autobot leader turned his optics downward. "I am detecting a large vessel approximately three miles from a nearby settlement. This city is teeming with an organic humanoid species I am not familiar with."

"Jaffa." McKay's answer was instant. "I think. I…didn't have time to research this planet, either.

"Sounds like we right about the Wraith culling en masse," Sheppard pointed out grimly. "At least that gives us a chance to get rid of them on the ground. If we head towards the city, we might run into Riley's team on the way."

"We must move quickly." Optimus was sounding more grave than usual, and it became apparent why. "For there is also a Decepticon energy reading amongst the humanoids. They are not alone."

* * *

-

TBC


	5. The Gripes of Wraith

**_Same Side_**

**_---  
_**

AN: This is a long chapter. Because I don't like thinking up new chapter titles. Enjoy the mass of plot bunnies and battle scenes.

* * *

-

_Chapter Five: The Gripes of Wraith_

_-  
_

The plan wasn't a complete success. A road had been carved between the Stargate and the Jaffa city possibly dating hundred years ago or more, and was left to nature. Even in their alternate modes, the Autobots were not covering ground as quickly as they could—they had to travel on wheels in order to carry the five accompanying humans, after all. Not ten minutes after leaving the 'gate, the distant scream of half a dozen Wraith Darts stopped them in their tracks.

Sheppard, Lennox and the other members of the team quickly climbed out of the Autobots' cabs. Optimus transformed, craning his head towards the sky as he spotted the oncoming threat. "We have company," he warned the others, as his right hand morphed into one of his many weapons. "They must not delay us any further. Ironhide, you and I will attempt to keep the aircraft occupied while the Twins take the humans to the nearby settlement. Locate the missing soldiers and await my orders."

"Aye aye, cap'n," Mudflap dropped back into his Trax form. "Ya heard de boss, ladies. Get in."

The first of the Wraith Darts howled past them, firing poorly on the group and striking the ground around Ironhide's feet. Sheppard nodded to Ronon sharply, and grabbed the door to the green Beat. Lennox paused at the driver's side of the same car. "Stick to the road and don't slow down until we reach civilization," he told the Autobot. Ronon climbed into Mudflap's passenger door while Epps took the opposite. The NEST commanded exchanged nods with Optimus before the Twins sped off down the dusty, overgrown road.

As the sounds of battle escalated behind them, Sheppard found himself glancing over at Lennox, who didn't appear troubled in the slightest. He returned his eyes to the road ahead of them, saw the taillights of the other Autobot straight ahead and the dust cloud that enveloped them both. McKay tapped him on the shoulder.

"Sheppard," the astrophysicist had a lifesigns detector in his hands. He showed the colonel the screen, which was filled with red dots. Well, red splotches anyway.

"Okay, that's a lot of Wraith," Sheppard pointed out the obvious. "Got anything to share that we don't know already, Rodney?"

"Not them—_that_," came the angry reply. His finger stabbed the display, at an unusually large white dot that was rapidly approaching their position. "That's not Wraith. Whatever that is, it's giving of an _insane_ amount of energy, and it's going to get here _fast_."

"_Oh, dayum,"_ Skids' voice came over the speakers as the Autobot suddenly swerved a bit, as though surprised. "_Oh, man, this ain't good, I don't like this crazy bitch comin' up behind me like this—"_

"Skids, what's happening?" Lennox ordered.

"_Stupid-ass Decepticon, punk, wha' ya think I'm talkin' abou'?" _The Autobot swerved again, and the three occupants grabbed their seats to battle inertia. "_You squishies better get ready_ _to _bail_, if ya'll know what's good for—"_

It was that moment that something exploded out of the trees, soaring towards them with appendages outstretched. The Decepticon robot latched onto Skids' roof as the Autobot spun around wildly in an unsuccessful attempt to shake him off. Sheppard somehow managed to find the door handle and pulled, spilling out onto the ground with McKay practically on top of him. Mudlfap, fully transformed now, had turned around and trained his guns at the robot clinging to his brother. Skids yelled a few obscene comments about the Decepticon's mother before flipping his opponent off his back and several yards into a tree.

The Decepticon lurched to its feet, silvery-green arms expanding and unfolding to reveal several missile pods. For a moment, the Twins just looked at it, as Lennox and the others closed in to each other. Everyone but McKay had their P90's (in Ronon's case, his blaster) on the attacker.

"Aww, he's jus' a little guy," said Mudflap, waving an oversized arm dismissively. "We though' you was a _real_ Decepticon, pussy. C'mon, Skids, let's make dis itty bitty scrap drone history."

"You outta your _mind_, Mudflap?" Skids was hesitating, looking around as though for a possible escape route. "Tha's _Sixshot_, dumbass! Tha's a _mean_ robot!"

The Decepticon, which was in fact small for a killing robot (about the same size of the Twins, and they were small enough), resembled a praying mantis with guns instead of forearms. The red slits of his eyes looked almost delightedly murderous, its smooth mask without an ounce of expression. "At last, worthy opponents! Face your deaths, Autobots!" it hissed, and lunged at Skids.

Learning about Decepticon and Autobot tactics was a new experience for Lennox, even after two and a half years sharing the same battles. But these bad robots almost never fought alone, especially not when they were outnumbered. Sixshot chose the green Autobot as his target with gleeful abandon, arcing over their heads and unleashing a volley of missiles that streamed downwards like deadly rain.

Skids raised his bigger arm as a shield and rolled backwards under the force of the multiple explosions. His limb sparking and glowing hot where it had been damaged, he nimbly got back up and began to fire upon the Decepticon. Mudflap leapt towards their enemy with a high-pitched battle cry, only to struck down with a lightning-quick slap of Sixshot's spindly hand, combined with some sort of concussive wave. This was about the time Sheppard let the P90 loose on bad guy's exposed back, accompanied by Lennox, Ronon, McKay and everyone else firing their weapons at once.

But _damn_ this guy was fast. Sixshot flipped over again and launched himself in the air with one hand, landing back on top of Skids. With a series of metallic _clicks_, his body itself transformed to become affixed to the Autobot's parts, as the Decepticon drove two bladed arms down on Skids' chest plating over and over. The mostly superficial blows caused an eruption of sparks as Skids danced about wildly to try and throw off the piggy-backing robot.

"I got you, Skids!" Mudflap launched his cable at his brother, which the green Autobot instantly caught and secured. Skids spun around, linking the cable around Sixshot's smaller bulk and jumped towards the edge of the road, lashing out with a hand and spinning around the trunk of the nearest tree. The cable rattled as it got stuck under the Decepticon's pointed chin, forcing his clamps to break their hold on his Autobot bronco, and resulting with him pinned up against the trunk.

"Yeah, eat that cold metal, sucka!" one of the Twins said, though it was difficult to tell which.

Then Sixshot fired his cannon at the base of the tree, riding the shockwave skywards. His resulting backflip had him slip right out of the stranglehold, as he dug his fingers into the trunk and launched himself off again.

"Oh hell, there ain't no way he jus' did tha—ow!" Skids was knocked down under the Decepticon. Sixshot grabbed him, swung him around with strength that defied his size and slammed the Autbot into the ground, then up again—this time using Skids like a club and hitting Mudflap, who tried to come to the rescue. The red Twin went flying back again, skidding twice before sliding to a stop.

Sixshot jammed a bladed arm down through Skids' shoulder, pinning him and using one of his talon-like feet to step on the Autobot's face. He poised, ready to drive his other blade through the spark of the green Twin.

And was gone the next instant in a crunch of metal. A black figure collided with him full-on at nearly seventy miles an hour, and the much larger Ironhide wrapped his hand around the fragile servos under the Decepticon's neck as they went barreling over the side of the road. Trees shattered under their combined weight as they careen down the incline, slowing their speed until they landed separately in a shallow river.

Sixshot was not stupid enough to continue the fight under these conditions. He rolled over, shifted his body into that of a narrow-winged jet plane, and shot into the air like an arrow. The Autobot's cannon fire brushed past his wing, but Decepticon was lost in the clouds in a matter of seconds.

Optimus was standing over the humans and the somewhat damaged twins when the weapons specialist climbed back up to the dirt road. Skids was moaning and complaining to his brother, who punched him in the back of the head for acting like a 'big ol' green baby', but it was obvious he knew just how close he'd come to being an only child. Or robot.

"Sixshot's presence here is very ill-omened," the leader of the Autobots said, putting his guns away. "He is little more than a high skilled assassin, which suggests that Megatron knows of our involvement on this planet and does not wish us to succeed."

"The little punk has fled," Ironhide informed them, clenching a fist. "This planet is beginning to make me angry. We should destroy every last one of these Wraith creatures for interfering with our battle with the Decepticons."

"You know, from here it looked like he wanted to kill these two," Sheppard announced, looking pointedly at the Twins. "With all due respect, the Wraith don't care about your feud; hell, they don't even know about it."

Lennox and Epps were looking at him with distinctly pissed-off expressions. The NEST commander took a few deliberate steps his way. "Colonel, as much as I appreciate your opinion on the matter, we have been taking down Decepticons a little longer than you have. "

"No, Major," Optimus said regrettably, directing his optics down to them. "Colonel Sheppard is right. Had I known the Decepticon in hiding was Sixshot, I would not have split up our ranks. Mudflap and Skids are highly skilled in certain ways, but combat against a veteran like him would have ended terribly."

"Alright, then let's move out." Lennox sounded rough. "From here on, we don't split up, we don't slow down and we don't ignore any Decepticon signals no matter how far away they are. Let's find that missing team and go home."

When they climbed back into the cabs of the Autobots', Sheppard sat down heavily next to Ronon in the passenger seat of Mudflap. Optimus took point while Ironhide guarded the rear along the narrow road.

Lennox noticed Epps giving him a strange look, and took his eyes off the scenery passing by Skids' window. Half of him wondered if Skids' damage made it harder to travel in his alternate mode, but if the Autobot wasn't complaining, then he probably hadn't been hurt as bad as he first thought. His best friend's quirked eyebrow said something else, however. "What?"

"Just admiring those horns on your head," Epps replied. "Must be made of pretty strong stuff considering you've been buttin' them with Colonel Sheppard since we started this thing."

"First of all, it's Lieutenant Colonel, and since we're all being so formal, 'Robert', he's a goon. I've read his files, and I know what he's done in the past. Hell, I don't even know if I want to believe half of it. The guy in those records and _him_ are two completely different people. Earth's got a lot of problems already with the Decepticons on the loose. Ironhide's right; we need to be taking care of _them_ back on Earth, not gallivanting around on some other planet—if that's really where we are—almost getting our guys killed to chase down an alien spaceship that we don't even know exists."

Epps let out a low whistle as the rough terrain jostled them about a little bit more. "Well, in their defense, they _have_ been protectin' the planet from aliens a lot longer than us."

The NEST commander didn't answer. The procession of Autobots reached the top of a gentle slope in the road, and Optimus was already standing up to overlook something in the distance. When Lennox saw what that was, he wasn't quite sure what to feel.

A town (or an unusually large village) sprawled out before them a good half mile away. It looked strangely Egyptian in the way the buildings stood, and the style of the walls that surrounded them. There was a massive temple-like structure in the middle that could have been a pyramid, though it was smaller and lacked the fourth side that defined the geometrical physics of one. At one time, the settlement might have been intact, but right now it was in ruins. Great pockets of smoldering fire, twisted metal wreckage and buildings that had been completely leveled drove the truth home; they were too late.

Lennox stepped out of the silent car, shielding his eyes for a better look. Sheppard's team was lined up beside Optimus, staring outwards. The Autobot leader made a sound that could have been a sigh. "Barbaric," he said forebodingly.

"Sheppard," McKay said with a voice that cracked. He cleared it. "Look, the Wraith—"

True enough, the enormous alien ship that had been mentioned during their debriefing was also there, well within view of the Jaffa settlement. Like a snake recoiling after strike, it began to rise off the ground—the force of which could be felt in tremors through the ground, and by everyone who stood on it. It was a monster. What little of it Lennox saw before it ascended into the clouds was disturbingly scary. Even though it didn't fire on them, or send any of its screaming grunts to destroy them, he could practically _feel_ the malice dripping off its ugly surface like an insipid poison.

"I don't—" McKay's voice cracked again, and he sighed irately. "I don't get it. The Jaffa aren't even human; it doesn't make sense that the Wraith would try to cull their planet if they can't feed on them. Can they?"

"I dunno," said Sheppard, squinting after the fleeing cruiser. "Maybe they can, Rodney. In any case, they're gone. Radios should be working now." He reached up and turned his on again. "Lieutenant Bradley, come in. SG4, this is Lieutenant Colonel Sheppard of…" He paused, glancing over at his team. "…SGA-1, do you copy?"

Dead silence. Either the team had forgotten to turn their radios back on, or they were unconscious. Or worse. He looked down a moment, then up at the gathered humans (plus Satedan) and Autobots. "Might as well check it out. Keep an eye out; they probably left us a welcoming party. Oh, and…" He stared deliberately at Lennox and Epps. "If you think you see something, but don't _actually_ see it…don't shoot it, please. Wraith play mind tricks, make you think there's things around you that aren't there."

The group began to walk down the slope towards the ruins of the city, separately. Sheppard didn't feel like getting in and out of the strange Autobot cars over and over again—it just seemed wrong, constantly asking for a ride, especially from a robot with battle wounds. It only took ten minutes to reach the rubble of the settlement's gate, anyway.

The first bodies they encountered were Jaffa, and somehow it didn't surprise anyone that they had been fed on. Shriveled remains like these were common in the colonel's line of work, and even McKay glanced over them without much of a reaction other than a furled brow. Lennox and Epps stared for a moment before turning away. Of the two corpses, one used to be a little girl—maybe eight or nine years old. 'Barbaric' suddenly felt like a great understatement.

As they wordlessly trekked through what remained of the main street, the Autobots kept their thoughts to themselves. Ironhide had his cannons charged and was continuously looking around for a possible ambush. Skids bashed his foot on a chunk of a Jaffa Al'kesh bomber, and was shushed by his twin brother. When they finally stopped in the center of the settlement, Sheppard's throat felt dry. A single body lay discarded against the obelisk nearby, and its distinctive uniform answered the question about SG4's location.

He was watched carefully as he strolled over to the husk of Lieutenant Bradley, reached under his shirt and tugged the dog tags free. He glanced around; no sign of his team, but there was a M9 pistol on the ground nearby. Bradley still had his in its holster.

"Looks like the Lieutenant's team might have been taken by a culling beam," he announced as he stood up. "There aren't many bodies around, so a _lot_ of people probably ended up on that cruiser." He then spotted another corpse—this time, a Wraith brute, which looked like it had taken a few dozen blasts from a staff weapon. "We can search the whole city for possible survivors, or go back and make a new plan. One thing's for damn sure—the Wraith know we're on to them."

There was a long pause, where the only sound was the heavy footfalls of Optimus Prime as he turned in a slow circle to survey the area. Ironhide grunted angrily. "There are no traces of Energon anywhere. As difficult as this is to believe, Sixshot did not participate in the destruction of this primitive community. And this kind of brutal ruination is a Decepticon trademark. Wraith are indeed despicable creatures."

"They've done a lot worse," Ronon said darkly. "Sheppard, can we go now?"

They had to report back to the Compound about the MIA advance team and SG4's demise, but before the colonel could say as much, Ironhide recharged his weapons and shouted, "Incoming!"

The Wraith Darts came down on them from above—a tactic they had only ever used once before, on Atlantis when they beamed their people inside the city. Three of the screeching ships plummeted from the sky, turned ninety degrees and shot straight towards the Autobots. Two of them rolled away from the energy blasts from Ironhide's cannons, and instead of returning fire, they flew _around_ him and towards the exposed humans.

Sheppard didn't have to tell anyone to take cover. The glossy, translucent culling beam flashed underneath the ships and swept past the spot where Lennox and Epps had been standing before. All five humanoids scrambled for cover—McKay and Sheppard under the ruins of a single-room building and the others inside a doorway across the street. "Rodney!" the colonel shouted.

"I know, I know! I wasn't looking, alright?" the scientist snapped. "I was a little distracted by the dozens and dozens of _corpses_ lying around!"

Optimus and Ironhide were unleashing volley after volley of projectiles at the other two Darts, which were proving to be far more agile than the last batch of enemies. With a combination of hissing and clanking, Prime's rapid-fire barrels transformed into a much more powerful launcher. Two bullets erupted from the barrel and spun towards the rear of a Dart that had just flanked them, causing its engines to explode. It dove from the sky and crashed into one of the buildings in an impressive fireball.

True to their nature, Skids and Mudlap were hastily climbing to the highest vantage point they could find, on top of some of the tallest structures in the area. Mudflap fired on one of the Darts as it sped back to the humans and managed to clip a wing. The damaged Dart teetered back and forth—then drastically changed direction.

Ironhide narrowed his blue optics as the kamikaze Dart closed in. He fired once at the nose of the ship, but only an instant before it slammed into him. The flaming Wraith vessel and the black Autobot crashed to the ground, creating a quake violent enough to crack the nearby obelisk in half.

"Dammit!" In the haze of dust that followed, Lennox grabbed his altered P90 tightly and charged into the open. Just as he aimed the barrel at the last remaining Dart, quickly heading his way, Sheppard roared at him to move. McKay tried to grab his arm, but the colonel made a mad dash at the NEST leader anyway.

The Wraith culling beam struck the ground and raced towards them. Sheppard grabbed Lennox from behind and pushed, just as the beam engulfed him instead. Lennox growled a protest, but when he spun around to face the colonel, he saw only the last traces of the beam and the tail end of a Dart as it abruptly accelerated to escape.

Ronon futilely began to chase after it, firing his blaster wildly. It was travelling too fast—even for Optimus, who was even out of firing range. The distance between the captured Sheppard and his helpless team was increasing far beyond their reach—

--until a screaming red Autobot launched himself off the roof of a building. It seemed to take forever for Mudflap to sail through the air, arm outstretched toward the Dart like a basketball player reaching for that last point, _just_ after the timer hit zero. His aim was off. With a screech and a _crunch_, he grabbed a hold of the Dart from below and caused the small fighter to dip dangerously low in its flight path. "Yeah, tha's right! I got choo now—whoa now, don' play so rough, baby, I'm jus' getting' to know you!"

As the Dart swerved left and right, trying to shake him off, Skids closed in on them, jumping from rooftop to rooftop. Just as they passed between two tower-like buildings, he leapt into the air and clung to his brother's leg.

The added weight proved lethal to the Wraith Dart. With an almost defiant scream, the ship lost all control and banked into a stone wall. After spinning around a half dozen times or more, it landed flat-bottomed on the ground, skidded, rolled over and came to a stop in the middle of the road. The Twins ended up upside-down and tangled with each other nearby, but were otherwise unharmed.

Optimus leaned down to help Ironhide get back on his feet, the latter grumbling about a dented spark chamber and a newfound love of destroying pointy things. Though there was a sparking hole in the upper-right section of his chest, the stalwart weapons' specialist brushed away his leader's attempt to support his weight. They approached the scene of the crash behind Ronon and the other smaller bipeds.

"Good job, you two," Optimus told the Twins, turning his attention to the gathering. Ronon and McKay were the first to reach the downed vessel. The Satedan hadn't lowered his pistol yet. They both knew that the Wraith inside less likely dead than it was waiting for a chance to spring on the nearest two-legged snack.

Lennox narrowed his eyes at the wreckage. He didn't know what to think about it just yet.

For thirty seconds, nothing happened. McKay's heart was beating wildly—if the Dart was too damaged, Sheppard might already be…but it wasn't right to go assuming that right away. But they continued to wait for the stilled Dart to move, and it didn't.

Suddenly, a shadow cast over the members of Sheppard's team. Optimus stepped up to the crash slowly, and closed a massive hand around the much tinier vessel. With the other hand, he pried the cockpit of the Dart open, revealing…a dead Wraith, not to anyone's surprise. Luckily, he had died on impact and hadn't time to activate his self-destruct button. The Autobot leader threw the scrapped frame of the cockpit away and stepped around to the other side of the wreckage, in order to let the humans take over.

"That was one freaky light…thing," Epps commented, shrugging the strap of his heavier weapon off his shoulders and jogging over to the Dart. "You sure he's still alive in there somewhere?"

McKay couldn't hide the tremor in his voice as he started forward. "God, I hope so."

"Get him out of there, McKay," Ronon told him, lowering his pistol in order to grab the dead alien by the front of its suit. He hauled the body out of the cockpit and let it drop to the ground. "And don't say it's impossible."

"As long as the energy buffer wasn't destroyed, he'll be just fine. Dammit John, you're such an idiot, I don't even want to go there…" The scientist grumbled to himself, tearing the console open—easier than it would have been if it wasn't already partially shattered. "Oh thank God. It's fine. We can beam him out right now, only just, uh…" He pulled out of the Dart slightly, and looked up at the Autobots. "It has to be above the ground for us to do that. I'll stay inside and initiate the transfer, but it'd be a great help if one of you…well, gave me a lift, so to speak?"

"Stand clear, Ronon," Optimus told the Satedan, as McKay scrambled to sit inside the Dart. The Autobot carefully lifted the broken vessel off the ground with two hands, apologizing politely when the astrophysicist yelped in surprise. McKay quickly overcame himself and dug his fingers into the disgusting innards of the Wraith tech.

"Alright, stay back!" he called down to whoever was listening. Praising himself for having learned this trick during his study of the matter-transfer devices back in Atlantis, he pinched two of the main 'wires' inside the console. A whistling sound and flash of light assured him that he'd been successful—or so he hoped.

Optimus lowered the ship down again, and McKay climbed out. Ronon was already kneeling next to an unconscious Sheppard, checking his pulse. The Satedan snorted. "He's fine." As an afterthought, he grinned and added, "Hey, Sheppard. McKay called you an idiot."

"I did _not_! I mean…you weren't supposed to hear that."

"How's the lieutenant colonel look?" Lennox spoke for the first time since being pushed out of the way.

"Sleepy," Sheppard replied for himself, sluggishly. He rolled over, very slowly and got on his feet. When he staggered backwards, Ronon grabbed him and slung one of the colonel's arms around his shoulders. "Y'know, it's really cold in there. Never really noticed that until now. Always felt…weird, the first few times." Then his half-asleep gaze stopped on Lennox. He pointed a lazy finger at him. "You…we're gonna have a little talk, you and I. We need to set some things straight."

Being the kind of man who appreciated heroics, when they were necessary, Lennox gave a short nod. "All right, fair enough. But you're still buying."

With half-lidded eyes, the colonel glowered at him. "You…suck," he said, before slipping into unconsciousness again. Ronon turned him around and slung his team leader over his shoulder.

"I don't want any more surprises from this place," Lennox went on, gesturing to Epps. "It's time we head back home and deliver the news. Ironhide, you gonna be fine?"

"As always, I fail to see how the answer to that question isn't already obvious."

The trip back to the Stargate was much longer than it had been on the way out. With Ironhide's damage, he had to travel at a respectably slower speed and Skids wasn't too fond of driving that fast with a dented front wheel rim and what passed for a massive robotic headache. Sheppard recovered in Mudflap's back seat with Ronon keeping a close eye on him. Everyone else was with Optimus, the least damaged of them all.

No one counted the minutes it took until the Stargate was in view. The humans piled out of the accompanying Autobots to approach it on foot, including Sheppard, who ended up slung once more over the Satedan's shoulder. McKay couldn't help but glance up at the sky once in a while as he leaned over the DHD and dialed Earth's address. The arrival of more Darts would be just _perfect_ right now, and not all that unexpected. Fate was a cruel mistress.

But the 'gate spun around, dialed, and _whooshed_ as it always did. McKay sent his IDC through, and when he got confirmation that the Iris was open from the techs back on Earth, he nodded to the others. The DHD had been a little sluggish to the touch and it had been humming strangely, but he didn't give it much thought. He was too preoccupied with the thought of going home to a nice, big meal and some reruns of _Whose Line Is It Anyway?_ that he couldn't have imagined anything else going wrong.

He entered the wormhole right behind the Autobots and before Ronon and Sheppard. He was completely unprepared for the sudden blast of cold and stinging on his skin when he emerged on the other side.

He stumbled forward, only dimly aware of the others in front of him. His knees sunk into the freezing snow. And just as the Stargate crackled shut behind them, stranding the entire group in the middle of a frozen wasteland in the middle of a blizzard, the first thing that came to Rodney's mind was how badly he wanted an early retirement.

* * *

-

TBC


	6. Imperfect Storm

_**Same Side**_

_**---  
**_

AN: Ever wished someone else would write your stories for you? If only I could read the rest of this story and not have to write it…All you guys have to do is sit back and freeload off my hard work. Scavengers! Get off my lawn! Ehhh, whippersnappers…

I fear Optimus is a little out of character. I'm going to try and tweak that a little, but out of all of the Autobots, he's the hardest to write. And I don't even want to think about scary/angry Optimus when he starts fighting Decepticons…

* * *

-

_Chapter Six: Imperfect Storm_

_-_

McKay felt someone grab the back of his jacket and start pulling him upwards, and since his legs had turned rubbery with the shock, he had no problems being shoved headfirst into the warm cab of a very large truck. He almost face-planted into Major Lennox, and righted himself on the seat as Sheppard sat down on his other side. The loud whistling of the ice storm went dead, yet the outside of Optimus' windows was little more than white noise. It was hard to tell that it was moving at all, so thick was the snow blazing around.

It was _warm_. They were inside an Autobot—it made sense that it would be warm inside, he supposed. The awkwardness of the situation was there, though. It became even more awkward when he noticed Sheppard glaring at him.

"I dialed the right address!" Rodney snapped before any accusation was made. "You _saw_ me enter my IDC. This is _so_ not my fault!"

Sheppard ignored him. "Where are Ronon and Sergeant Epps?"

"_They have taken refuge with Ironhide_," Optimus informed them over his speakers. "_The temperature in this area is far lower than your thermoregulatory systems can handle. It would be wise to stay inside_."

"Yeah, no kidding!" McKay snapped out of habit. He went back to rubbing his hands together and trying to get the blood flowing. He'd been exposed for less than a minute and he felt as though he'd never get his fingers back.

"What about your boys, Optimus? I don't like the idea of you sitting out here, either," said Lennox, squinting at the blizzard.

"_My_ _body can withstand the storm for several hours before shutting down." _There was a pause. "_In his weakened state, Ironhide may not last that long_."

"Okay, first off, _what_ the hell just happened, Rodney?" Sheppard almost exploded and pointed at the windshield.

"Why are you asking _me? _I went through the same Stargate as you! What, you want me to guess? Fine—he's my guess: the Wraith sabotaged the Stargate. It's either that, or another random, inconveniently timed cosmic intervention, meaning anything within a reasonable distance that has enough energy to affect the alignment of a wormhole—which is pretty much _anything_ in the galaxy_._" Looking distinctly pissed off, he folded his arms tightly and looked outside, and added with a more controlled tone of voice, "Wraith sense of humour. They can't just cull the planet and let it go, but they have to make sure anyone who tries to escape ends up dying a slow, horribly _excruciating_ death."

"Great, so…can you fix it?" asked Lennox.

McKay slowly turned his head to give the NEST commander a piercing, even fearful look. He glanced at Sheppard, then back to Lennox. "Oh God, there's two of you."

"The man asked a good question, Rodney," Sheppard pointed out. The blizzard's dull roar rose about half a decimal and Optimus _might_ have shifted a little as a blast of frigid air swept over their position. "What are the chances of getting the DHD fixed so we can dial Earth?"

The scientist snorted. "Slim, next to none? If there _is_ a dialing device, the odds of it being even_ slightly_ usable are laughable."

"Right, fine. But we're in the Milky Way galaxy, so we could manually dial the 'gate, right?"

"Only if you happen to have an extra set of _jumper_ cables on you, Sheppard, and I'm pretty sure I forgot to bring mine."

_"If you require a source of energy, we can provide a great deal of ours if it is necessary_," Optimus informed them.

"Thank you, yes, thank you…for the offer, but unless you're sure a four-point-five million kilowatt jumpstart won't kill you, I would _strongly_ advise against that," McKay responded, sounding more and more weary every time he spoke, as though he already knew what had to be done and wanted nothing to do with it.

"_Hmmm. Perhaps Ratchet, whose energy reserves exceed those of most Autobots. It is not an option I would consider lightly, even if he were here."_

McKay covered his face with a hand and let out a small groan. "I should have stayed on Atlantis…"

"Look, let's assume that the DHD isn't too badly damaged. Is it fixable?"

Not looking up, McKay sighed. "Of _course_ it's fixable, John. I'm _me_. But can I fix it before I pass out from hypothermic shock? Or before I lose my hands to frostbite? Unlikely. I mean, _first_, we'd have to find the DHD. It's probably buried under a ton of snow and ice."

"_The storm is severely decreasing the efficiency of our sensors, unfortunately," _Optimus told them. "_I will instruct the Twins to unbury this device if you can give us an idea of where to begin searching."_

"Right, so, um…" The scientist scrunched his face in thought, finding it hard to think about anything beyond the _God-awful_ storm rattling around the Stargate. "We're in the Milky Way, which means the DHD should be roughly…thirty-five, forty feet from the 'gate? About the same distance the DHD was from the Stargate back on P2M-436."

There was another pause before the Autobot spoke again. _"They are working on it now. The temperature has dropped another two degrees, and it is now roughly negative 36.15 degrees Fahrenheit."_

"Geez, that's like…minus thirty-nine degrees Celsius," McKay said a little breathlessly. "That's insane. I'm insane. If I go out there, I'm going to freeze to death. It's that simple. Did you know that people stripped of all their clothes can die within 20 minutes of exposure to _zero_ degrees Celcius? That's forty degrees warmer than it is out there!"

"No, Rodney. We won't let that happen." Sheppard put a hand on his shoulder. "If you can't fix it in time, we'll think of something else. And trust me—you won't be naked."

"Thank you! That's very comforting!"

"_If it is of any_ _solace, I will do everything within my power to keep you alive, Dr. McKay."_

Rodney opened his mouth, then closed it. A moment later, he said, "Oh, well…that is comforting. I think. Thanks."

_"In the meantime, I'm afraid you two will have to transfer yourselves to Mudflap's custody. I am ready whenever you are."_

"Rodney," said Sheppard firmly. "Whatever it is you think you need to do to that DHD, plan it out right now. No one's going out there unless you're sure about this. Got it?"

"What do you think I've been thinking about for the past ten minutes? Hockey?"

"_Rodney_."

"Tch. Fine. I'm ready."

Sheppard methodically took of his jacket and handed it to the astrophysicist, who stared at it blankly. "What are you doing?" he demanded. "You're going out there, too!"

"Just take it, Rodney. I'm not out there for long, and you're going to need every layer you can get. Sorry if it's a little tight."

"You honestly have to take every opportunity to make fun of me, don't you? Hey, I've buffed up since we came back from the Pegasus galaxy, thank you very much. Whereas most guys just let themselves—"

"I hate to interrupt a perfectly good verbal sparring," Lennox cut in, gesturing to the snow outside. "But as much as they're too polite to admit it, I've got four members of my team out getting their circuits frozen."

"Let's get it over with," Rodney muttered after zipping up the second jacket.

"_Dr. McKay, I will move you to the location of the device once I have transformed. Mudflap is waiting for you and the Lieutenant Colonel on my left flank, Major. On the count of three, now…"_

Optimus listed off all three numbers, and with a roar of 'Now!', both of his doors sprang open. The blizzard immediately began to ravage the occupants of the cab, twisting and pulling savagely at them from both sides. It was literally impossible to hear anything but the roar of eighty-mile-an-hour winds and trillions of otherwise harmless flakes of snow as Sheppard dropped to the ground, pulling McKay behind him. He couldn't hear Optimus change, but a few seconds after they were engulfed, a large metal hand came out of nowhere to pick the scientist up.

Sheppard pressed forward with Lennox on his tail, fighting against the strong gale as they trekked to where the orange-red Trax was sitting and waiting. He _really_ began to hope that he could trust the Autobot with McKay's life, just as he climbed inside Mudflap's door and started to cough. The warm air rushing into his lungs after he'd been breathing in the storm made it hard to breathe. When they had recovered, the colonel shared a wry look with Lennox. "Hey," he said out loud, hoping the Autobot was listening. "Can you tell what's happening?"

"_Don' thank me for bustin' ma aft for youse, fluffy, tha's jus' fine,_" came the vexed reply from Mudflap. "_Dayum snow foggin' up all my sensors an' all, woulda thought Optimus'd tell ya that."_

"Right," said the Colonel a little hoarsely. "Sorry."

An uncomfortable silence followed, which broke when the Autobot said, "_Alls I can tell is that yo boy's doin' somethin' funky to that weird-aft machine we dug up for ya'll. It's so dayum cold, I think my oil's startin' ta freeze."_

"If Rodney can help it, we'll all be out of here soon." Sheppard tried to peer through the wall of snow in front of them, and caught a glimpse of Optimus hunched over something, which he _hoped_ was McKay and the DHD. It felt like something sharp was wedging itself between his heart and his ribcage. It wasn't just his worrying about McKay, but the fact that they were practically screwed if he didn't manage to fix the 'gate's power source. And if none of them made it back, that couldn't be good for relations back on Earth. The IOA would be too damned busy pointing fingers to take the Wraith threat seriously, and he didn't even want to imagine what the government would think about them losing four Autobots, not to mention their leader.

Weir had tried to teach him to think diplomatically. It figured it took losing her and the Pegasus galaxy to finally start doing it.

"_Optimus says ta tell youse that McWhiney's body temperature's droppin' a lot," _Mudflap informed them. "_His pastiness migh' not get outta there 'fore he turns into a Popsicle. I'm jus' sayin'."_

"Dammit, Rodney," the colonel growled, leaning forward. "This'd be a really bad time for you to start acting like you're not Superman. If he's not gonna make it, tell Optimus to get him out of there. We'll think of something else."

Just as he spoke those words, there was a momentary break in the storm where the blinding snow became a lot more opaque. Optimus was shielding the wind from McKay the best he could with his body, but the way Rodney looked with his head against the edge of the DHD didn't look good. There was easily five feet of loose snow all around the device, a lot of which kept breaking free and falling on top of him. Suddenly, the orange globe in the middle of the DHD lit up. Rodney somehow managed to stagger to his feet, slapping at the symbols with jerky, almost desperate motions.

"Yes!" Sheppard hissed, clenching a fist. It abruptly began a painfully tight fist. McKay has just pressed the fourth symbol when he toppled to one side, sliding over the top of the DHD and landing motionlessly in the snow.

"Shit." Lennox swore this time, but Sheppard was already opening Mudflap's driver-side door and clambering out into the storm. Through vision blurred by the onslaught of wind and ice, he saw Optimus hastily grab McKay's unconscious body with an enormous hand and turn around. Ironhide appeared out of nowhere, and with immense relief, Sheppard witnessed Ronon pulling Rodney into the Autobot's cab. Ignoring the cold as best as he could, the colonel began to stumble towards the unfinished 'gate address and the Autobots. His foot landed in an especially soft spot and he was suddenly half-rolling, half-slipping down a snowbank towards the DHD. With that same fist, he punched in the last three symbols on the device's face, before slamming his palm on the orange globe.

A blue light washed over him and the icy world where he knelt, which he barely noticed. The biting wind and snow against his skin and T-shirt was numbing, at least. He hadn't even been outside for a fifth of the time McKay had, and he was already exhausted beyond the point of moving. Slowly, he sunk back into the snow and tried to stand up, and failed.

It was strange. Right before his mind slipped away, he could have sworn he was flying. But even then, all he could hear was the deafening howling of the storm, which accompanied him into the dark.

* * *

-

TBC


	7. Dog Day Aftermath

_**Same Side**_

_**-**_

AN: So here's the rest of the team. Am I forgetting anyone? Well, we'll soon see. Special thanks to those who've reviewed. I keep a spastic watch on the hit count of my stories...it's a seven year habit, what can I say.

Look out! A Decepticon!

_**

* * *

-  
**_

_Chapter Seven: Dog Day Aftermath_

_-  
_

Waking up in an unfamiliar infirmary—he'd done this before. Surprise was, Sheppard woke up to a familiar figure standing at the end of his bed. A tan-skinned, light brunette figure with a dark red v-neck and jeans on. Even in cheap Earth garb, he knew it was Teyla. A grin crept across his face.

"Hey, Teyla…" He tried to lift his head and lay back down after a wave of dizziness hit him. "Didn't expect to see you here. How's little junior?"

Teyla Emmagen smiled warmly, putting her hands around the bar at the end of his bed. "Torren is very well, as is Kanaan and myself. Somehow, I expected to arrive here and find you in a state like this."

The colonel scrunched his brow and groaned a little. "I swear it wasn't my fault this time. It was the Wraith." Sudden realization hit him. "Dammit, Rodney! Where is he?" He tried to sit up again, successfully this time. He wasn't hooked up to any machines and there was no IV, which was a good sign.

His newly arrived team member stood to one side, revealing the bed across from his. Sure enough, there was McKay, who _was_ hooked up to heart monitor and IV. There was colour in his cheeks and he seemed to be breathing normally. The sudden jumpstart to Sheppard's heart slowed down drastically.

"I arrived here a few hours after your return," Teyla explained a little gravely. "While there were some…moments of concern, he is expected to make a full recovery. But then, he is Rodney."

"Huh." He sighed. "I should've told Optimus to bring him in before it got out of hand. I didn't realize I had no way of radioing him after McKay got out, and—"

"John," she interrupted softly. "He is fine. What matters is…" She let out a sigh that clearly indicated that she had been worrying. "…you are all safe."

He nodded faintly, and his eyes flickered back over to her after a second. "A little bird told me you turned down the offer to join us here in Wonderland," he said as conversationally as he could.

"Yes, I did inform the Homeworld Security representative that there would be a delay in my…official decision," the Athosian mother explained with a hint or ire. "I had to ensure Torren and Kanaan would have everything they needed in my absence. I contacted your government as soon as I could and they came to transport me here. John, this place is…" She sounded overwhelmed all of a sudden, as she glanced around the infirmary. "It is remarkable. These aliens that have allied themselves with your people…there are no words to describe them."

"How about 'cool'?" he offered with a wry smirk. The smirk vanished when he realized he was wearing a hospital gown under his sheets.

"Yes, 'cool'," she said, and glanced over to her left. Sheppard followed her gaze to Major Lennox, who was approaching them slowly, as if worried about interrupting their conversation. It was a small infirmary, with little more than ten beds. Noticing him wasn't a difficult feat.

"Good to see you're awake, Colonel," the NEST commander said politely, and nodded to Teyla. "Miss Teyla. Don't worry; I'm not here to pick a fight. Since we'll be working side-by-side for a while, I thought I'd just check up on you and Dr. McKay."

"Well, I feel great," said Sheppard. He looked at Teyla apologetically. "Ah…Teyla, could I talk to the major here for just a minute? It's guy stuff."

Her brow arched high for a moment, but he didn't fail to catch her amused expression as she turned around and left the infirmary—not before placing an affection hand on Rodney's forehead, of course. She always was like the big sister of the team. And Sheppard knew as far as Athosian body language went, that was a damned nice compliment.

"First of all, Optimus wanted me to apologize for him," Lennox started, taking a seat on a chair across from the bed. Sheppard in turn shoved back so that he was sitting upright, but felt silly anyways. "But I'm not. He takes it personally every time any humans get hurt on his watch. That said, Dr. McKay made quite an impression on the Autobots. He just might be the first human they've met who's both smart enough and brave enough to keep Ironhide from making his usual aftermath evaluation."

This didn't impress or surprise Sheppard. First of all, he was caring less and less what those alien robots thought of him and his team with every passing minute. Sure, they were nice guys, but something about their attitude made him feel sheltered. Like a kid. Second of all…

"Thanks," he said unconvincingly. He thought of saying more, but that was the moment Woolsey decided to walk into the infirmary. The Atlantis expedition leader came towards them with an anxious look. "Hey, Mr. Woolsey. Nice tie."

"Thank you, Colonel, though my choice of attire is the last thing on my mind right now," came the reply. The man clasped his hands behind his back. "I'm glad you and Dr. McKay are recovering. However, the…Joint Chiefs of Staff weren't pleased with the outcome of yesterday's mission."

"I'm sure they're not."

"Not only did our combined forces fail to sabotage the Wraith vessel or recover any sort of useful data on the schematics of their new technology, but most of Lieutenant Bradley's team _and_ Major Salley's advance team are still MIA. Not to mention we almost lost you and my Chief Scientific Advisor, of course."

"We kinda had to improvise," Sheppard defended, rubbing a temple with his fingers.

"I don't doubt that the slightest. The IOA _and_ the Chairman of the Joint Chiefs of Staff aren't as easily convinced, however. For now, all off-world travel has been suspended. The consensus is, if the Wraith haven't found Earth's exact location yet, then we have more time to devise a more detailed plan on how to handle them. In fact…as of today, I will no longer be the head representative of Stargate Command."

Sheppard blinked at him, giving Lennox a quick glance-over. "Wait a second, why? You're the commanding voice in Atlantis. You deserve that title way more than any other guy who happens to have read all of our mission reports on Wraith attacks."

Woolsey smiled a taut, almost embarrassed smile and looked grateful, but still rather beaten. "I'm very pleased to hear that, Colonel Sheppard, but it may very well be that the chain of command is too diluted for a well-oiled military organization like this to work. My status as a civilian is ah…rather unfortunate in this case. They've decided to make you the official co-commander of the Compound Alliance."

That struck him like a five ton bell with a side of ice water. His bewildered expression wasn't lost on Major Lennox, who folded his arms and chuckled. "Oh, yeah. You and I are partners in this little union from now on, Colonel. Not that we should be complaining, since we are technically the highest ranking human experts in the field of alien invasions."

The colonel's attention flitted back to Woolsey, who nodded confidently. "Don't worry, Sheppard. I'm being sent back to Atlantis to oversee the city's relocation to the Indian Ocean. I'm not out to pasture just yet."

"Good to know." And it _was_ good to know. In the short year he'd been the leader of the Atlantis expedition, he'd done a lot to impress Sheppard. Woolsey looked and sometimes acted like 'just a suit', but he deserved his position just as much as Carter did. Or even Weir, as hard as it was to admit.

He tried to put the fact that he was still half-naked and sitting in a hospital bed out of his mind. "Alright, putting all that aside…if we're ignoring the Wraith right now, what exactly are we doing out here?"

"There'll be a full briefing on the situation at nineteen hundred hours," said Woolsey. "Ever since the Autobots began splitting their numbers and coming here, the Decepticons have been acting…well, unruly. I'm no expert on the matter, but turning our attention to the threats closer to home might not only benefit our situation when the Wraith _do_ arrive, but prove to the…ehm, higher powers that this alliance is as reliable as we said it would be."

"Proving our reliability again," Lennox cut in sourly. "I'm not one to dispute these things, usually, but we've been fighting these damn Decepticons for almost twenty-eight months, and they send people like Galloway to put us down. The Autobots especially. Now I've got Ratchet flying in a less than an hour, so I'll see you at the briefing, Colonel Sheppard. Also," he said, and paused after he stood up. "Thanks for watching my back. I'll make sure you don't regret it."

After Lennox smoothly strode out of the infirmary, Woolsey following behind him, Sheppard turned his attention back on Rodney's sleeping form. He knew he had to pay the big robots a visit. Ronon told him how the Twins were responsible for bringing the Wraith Dart that captured him down, and he didn't want to come off as unappreciative—especially now that he was the 'sanctioned' Stargate spokesperson.

He saw Teyla enter the infirmary again, letting the steel door close behind her gently. Sheppard inclined his head slightly in a manner of greeting. "Don't suppose you heard about my promotion."

"Ronon told me," she said, moving closer to McKay's bed. "I think it's wonderful. Although, I believe Mr. Woolsey was very excited about his involvement here, so I am not sure if it could be considered a victory."

"Bureaucrats," he agreed. "Hey, listen…as soon as I get one of these docs to let me go, I'm gonna go freshen up and then head to the briefing. You coming?"

"Actually…I was not invited to the meeting," she informed him, sounding just a little chagrined. "My late arrival may have stirred some unrest in the eyes of your leaders, but I was planning on stay here anyway. To watch over Rodney, so that someone is with him when he wakes up."

Sheppard fought back his frown. "Ah," he said. "He'll be happy that you did. I don't suppose you've heard from Jennifer…"

She shook her head. When she didn't elaborate, he knew it meant that Dr. Keller also hadn't been 'invited' by his superiors. Considering the extremely sensitive classification of the Compound, he wasn't surprised, but he also wasn't happy. Turns out he wasn't happy about a lot of things. He really, _really_ missed Dr. Heightmeyer at times like these. Damned Pegasus galaxy.

"Hey, doc," he said, noticing a sort of grizzled mid-forties man moving from one bed to another. The doctor looked over him.

"How are you feeling, Lieutenant Colonel?" Dr. Jaynes (or so it said on his nametag) questioned, moving towards him. He had a clipboard in one hand and a pen that looked like it had been chewed up quite a bit in the other. "Forgive me, but my name is Dr. Jaynes, and I've been working with the Stargate Program for almost seven years now. I overheard what Mr. Woolsey had to say, and let me just tell you that you that you have my support. And I'll gladly patch you up anytime you come back looking like a blue sack of potatoes."

"Thanks. Do me a favor, and keep a close eye on my buddy Rodney for me, then. And does this mean I'm free to go?"

Jaynes checked over his clipboard and looked at a nearby nurse, who nodded her head. "Alright, seems like you're as healthy as you're gonna get. Just get a full night's rest and check in with me before your next mission, and you can go."

Sheppard recovered his belongings from the cupboard nearby and flashed a smile at Teyla, before going to change. There were some things he needed to run by a certain robot before seven o'clock.

* * *

-

Turns out the Compound had golf carts. Well, not _golf_ carts. They were more like very small, antique Jeeps from the 1980's, with the brown-and-beige mottled army colours and everything. In any case, it beat the hell out of walking to the Autobot's warehouse. A group of soldiers, laughing about something one of them had said, stopped long enough to stand erect and salute him. Sheppard saluted back without thinking, and drove on with an awkward feeling in his gut. He felt like his old drill sergeant back a decade or so ago, making rounds around the camp just to catch anyone slacking off guard.

As he pulled up to the heavily armed entrance, he saw a strange vehicle driving into the hangar. It was a Hummer H2, one of kind emergency paramedics used in some wealthier cities. He got out of the cart, and entered the building behind it, nodding to the two soldiers on duty.

His eyes adjusted to the dimmer lighting slowly, but it was impossible to not see the Hummer H2 suddenly stand up, rotate in half and transform into another Autobot, a little smaller than he'd expected from (from human standards) a no-nonsense car like a Hummer. The colonel stayed back, watching the scene unfold as a bystander until the moment seemed right to butt in.

Ironhide was standing near a corner packed with supplies, from canisters of compressed gas, massive beams of steel and other discarded electronics he doubted Rodney would have an easy time sorting out. One of his arms was dangling above his head, held inside a crane-like clamp attached to the ceiling. Optimus was next to him, seemed to be trying to remove something jammed under the weapons specialist's chest armor.

"You look like a piece of scrap from a sub-spacial ore field," the new Autobot commented, sauntering over to his fellow autonomous robots. Something about his voice made Sheppard think of Dr. Jaynes, back in Compound 1. "What do you have to say for yourself, Ironhide?"

"Some greeting that is, old-timer," Ironhide grumbled. "Did you stop to examine the native vegetation on your way here, or did you feel making me wait was funny?"

"As expected, I'm not equipped to complete his repairs, Ratchet," Optimus said, stepping away from his second-in-command. "Until that fragment is removed from his outer spark chamber's casing, he will be unable to transform into his alternative mode. I would have to decommission you from battle, Ironhide."

The black-shelled Autobot said a word that was probably something crude and vulgar in his own language.

"Then let an 'old-timer' show you how it's done. I was tired of sitting around in the back of human aircraft anyway." Ratchet took Optimus' places, his right hand transforming into something that looked oddly enough like a Swiss Army knife for medical officers. Sheppard decided to look away at this point, knowing it was probably a bad idea to invade their privacy—if they even considered such things.

Possibly not. Ironhide's blue optics fixed on him a moment later and he made a strange grunt-like sound. "Apparently, you were followed home."

Optimus Prime turned around to see Sheppard standing there, though he was unreadable as always. "Lieutenant Colonel Sheppard. It's good to see you in good health. Is there something we can help you with?"

"Sorry if I'm disturbing you guys," said Sheppard, burying his hands in his pockets. He didn't move any closer. "Briefing's in about half an hour and I wanted to thank you personally for saving McKay's life, before we get sucked into another assignment. Are the Twins around?"

"They are recharging their Energon reserves in solitary confinement," the Autobot leader explained. "Mr. Woolsey came by recently to inform us of your promotion, Lieutenant Colonel. You have my congratulations."

"I wouldn't say that just yet. I've got a feeling they only gave me the job because they think I don't like you. And please, call me Sheppard. Too many unfamiliar faces calling me by rank nowadays; I just like it the way it was on Atlantis."

"Then 'Sheppard' it is, Sheppard," said a voice from behind him. A hand clapped down on his shoulder and Lennox appeared out of nowhere. Ronon was with him, grinning like a know-it-all. The colonel shot him a 'whose side are you on?' look. "After all, we're all part of the same team now, and Epps stopped calling me 'Major' since before I got promoted. How's the recovery going, Ironhide?"

"Slower than frozen oil on Starscream's cold, hard af—argh!" Ironhide flinched as Ratchet expertly yanked the shard of Wraith Dart from his delicate circuits. "You are asking for a sound beating, Ratchet."

"Calm down and let me do my job, you overgrown hatchling."

"Ironhide, be good for the doctor or you don't get to come with us to intercept the new Decepticon recruits in Montgomery, Alabama," Lennox threatened, throwing Sheppard a subtle wink.

"Why I do not simply discharge my cannon on your tiny little body and call it an accident…"

"Ironhide." Yet another warning from Optimus, which made the weapons specialist fall silent and broody.

"Anyway. Briefing time, guys," Lennox broke the silence, holding up his wristwatch and tapping it with a finger. "It's getting dark and I have a video date with my wife kid whom I haven't spoken to in three days. It's only mandatory for Optimus, so you two keep up the good work."

"Hold still already," Ratchet ordered his patient, not hearing him. "If you gesture at me like that one more time, you'll be lubricating from your knees until this planet's next ice age."

"Remind me to have McKay leave a surprise for you in your quarters back once we're back on Atlantis," Sheppard said, pointing to the Satedan. That only made Ronon's grin get wider.

"I didn't do anything wrong. Besides, McKay likes me better."

"Oh, yeah? We'll ask Teyla about that." The two of them followed Lennox out into the paved lot, where they witnessed the NEST commander climb into Sheppard's 'golf' cart. "Hey, wait a second—"

Lennox tore off down the open pavement like a kid in a bumper car, leaving Sheppard and a much amused Ronon behind to stare in disbelief. The colonel started to walk back to the Compound 1 building, shaking his head. "I hate that guy."

* * *

-

Midnight in Montgomery, Alabama.

Technically, they weren't in Montgomery yet, and it was 11:58. They'd had a sad, four hour drive from the Compound to the city border, with very little in terms of scenery and not much conversation to go around. Ironhide rolled along behind Optimus, and Ratchet behind him. Because he was still mostly recovering from his damage, Ironhide was under the scrutiny of their medical officer. Skids and Mudflap had been acting up after the briefing (the equivalent of getting drunk, only in terms of Energon), and had been removed from the mission, currently in the process of being babysat by a group of Lennox's men to make sure they didn't blow up anything else.

Ronon stuck with Sheppard inside Ratchet's cab, leaving the NEST leader and his next-in-command to Optimus. The briefing the night before had been short and sweet: suspected Decepticons had landed on the outskirts of the city of Montgomery and were supposedly hiding out within a massive junkyard. Their failure to communicate with Optimus' hails branded them a potential threat, and they were able to more-or-less pinpoint their location due to the unusually large expenditure of Energon they were creating. Optimus voiced his fears that they were attempting to create weapons with the raw materials abundant in human scrap yards.

After Ratchet ended an argument with Ronon about the Panthers vs. Rams game the night before, stating that the quarterback of the St. Louis Rams was heavily 'medicated' by performance-enhancing drugs, it got real quiet. No one argued with an Autobot, especially one who had learned more about human physiology in two years than most men and women with Ph.D.s learned in a lifetime. That said, it turned out that Ratchet was one of the more talkative Autobots—not in the way the Twins were talkative, but he was good for a third-person perspective on most topics. Most of those topics, however, ended up being snuffed with an overanalyzed comment from the medical officer, such as the idea of Ronon getting his hair cut 'proving to be of no perceptible benefit other than a marginal increase in the efficiency of his biological cooling system'.

Sheppard had been against the idea of hunting down enemy robots at first. He couldn't just deny that these guys had helped them out on P2M-426, though. He also didn't like the idea of fighting _both_ giant alien robots and Wraith at the same time. So for a while, he just stared at the steering wheel of the Hummer H2 and counted the number of insects that hit his windshield.

He came around when he saw Ironhide's brake lights go on and Ratchet slowed down. He got a sinking feeling in his gut. "What's happening up there?" he asked, thinking about the modified P-90 stashed under the seat.

"_Optimus has been flagged down by some unwashed members of a highway surveillance team,"_ Ratchet responded. "_Now we are being directed into the storage lot of this refueling station."_

Sheppard glanced out the window as they drove on slowly, and squinted his eyes. They were at a truck inspection station. This he could understand, what with Optimus being a classic case of 'truck', but the guy didn't even have a trailer on him. Was it even legal to pull over a tractor when it wasn't loaded?

They stopped outside the front of the building. Someone appeared outside Ratchet's driver-side window, a man in his fifties with a wide girth, and even under his cowboy hat it was obvious he had half a head of hair. There was an 'Inspector Richie' tag on his grey-and-blue uniform. The 'inspector' tapped on the window. Ratchet lowered it for Sheppard.

"Can I ask you gentlemen to please step out of your vehicle?" said the man with a long, southern drawl that the colonel _knew_ was fake. He suppressed a groan.

"Sure thing," he said, giving Ronon a slap on the arm. "You heard the man, buddy."

Somewhere in the back of his head, he _really_ hoped they hadn't noticed that Ironhide was empty. But on second glance, as Sheppard stepped down from inside the Hummer H2, he caught a glimpse of another one of the 'inspectors' talking to a very Texan-looking woman in Ironhide's driver side. He couldn't hear what was going on, but he could have sworn he heard the words 'ladies room' and 'sweetie pie'…and his night just got a lot weirder. Apparently, the man talking to the supposed 'lady' was convinced, because he turned his back on the truck. A moment later, Ironhide's passenger door opened and slammed. The fact that there was no sound of footsteps running away from the gathering didn't escape Sheppard, though.

Lennox and Epps came towards them, while Optimus' engine idled in the background. The NEST commander, dressed in normal civvies, put his hands on his hips. "Is there a problem, officer?"

"It's Inspector Richie," the balding man said, tapping his nametag with a finger. "And yes indeed, sir, there is a great big problem right there. That truck you're ridin' in is stolen property."

Epps eyes went wide and round. "Wait just a minute…stolen? Our big guy? You've got the wrong truck, man."

"Well, she may not have the same plates and she's a bit more dinged up since the last time I saw her," Richie said, getting nice and close to the major. "But that paint job's one-of-a-kind in this country, and that truck belongs to my good friend Jamie Bane from Houston. It got stolen eight months ago, and I'm right about ready to ask you had you boys managed to come by her."

It wasn't Epps fault, of course. The moment 'she' and 'her' came out of the fake Texan man's lips, he had to slap a hand over his own mouth to keep from laughing. Lennox had a little more restraint, but he had to clear his throat before attempting a rebuttal.

"Sir, I'm pretty sure you're mistaken. Robbie and I got this bad boy three years ago, in a Louisville automotive free-handlers auction," he said, so convincingly that Sheppard felt like he should believe it himself.

Inspector Richie glared him up and down a moment, then turned his head and spat on the ground. "I don't suppose ya'll got your paperwork to backup that convenient little story."

Damn. There was a good possibility that no one had thought about actually writing up some authentic ownership registration. Lennox's face told the colonel the truth.

"We don't have them with us tonight, Inspector. Me and my friends here just happen to be passing through town on our way to a convention, but I'd be more than happy to have my registration faxed here by morning."

Richie stopped noisily chewing his gum and smiled wildly. "Well then, that's a fine idea."

"Yes it is," Lennox agreed and offered the man a handshake.

"So in the meantime, I'll be doin' right by the law and holdin'…'your' truck here under our surveillance until we get that fax," the truck inspector finished, ignoring the peace offering. His partner grunted something that could have been a laugh, or acid reflux.

Lennox closed his hand into a tight fist and lowered it. "We can't let you do that, sir."

"Huh, what do you mean, you 'can't'? You don't have your papers and I'm not lettin' you take her anywhere until tomorrow mornin'…_if_ what you're claimin' is true."

Out of nowhere, Optimus' voice crackled over Sheppard's earpiece. He'd forgotten that he put it on once the mission started. "_Sheppard, please tell Major Lennox to allow these humans to impound me. When it is safe, I will leave the premises and rejoin you down the road."_

The colonel nodded his head to indicated he'd heard, covering it up by scratching his chin thoroughly. "Hey," he said out loud, before Lennox could break their identities. "Y'know, Lennox, I think Optimus wants us to get to the convention as fast as we can. So he can meet up with us after this whole thing blows over."

Lennox stared at him a moment, glanced over his shoulder at the still-idling Peterbilt behind him, and smirked. "I guess you're right. But I'm filing a complaint with your superiors," he added, jabbing a finger in Richie's face. "If there's so much as a _scratch_ on that three-thousand dollar paint job, you won't work in this country for the rest of your lives."

"Don't you worry your heart out, boy. We'll take good care of her," the 'inspector' said arrogantly. He nodded to his partner. "Take the truck into the cage and make sure the old girl's locked up real tight. You boys have a good time at that convention of yours." He tipped his hat at the suddenly reappeared Texan woman in Ironhide's cab. "Miss."

Richie's partner climbed into Optimus' cab and slammed the door behind him, hard. Even though he knew it was impossible that something like that could have damaged the Autobot leader, Sheppard flinched. Ironhide's engine roared for a moment, but thankfully the weapons specialist didn't do anything drastic as his commander gently peeled away from the others and drove into the heavily fenced-in area with the other impounded trucks.

"Man, that 'bot sure knows how to take one for the team," Epps commented, once they were alone again. "If I were him, I wouldn't let those assholes think they're as good as they think they are."

"Just imagine their surprise when their 'old girl' magically vanishes from under their noses," Lennox said, turning around to walk towards Ironhide. "Sorry about that, guys. Who would have thought the truck Optimus decided to duplicate would get stolen somewhere in the state of Alabama?"

"Let's try to get a head start, and we'll probably see the big guy again before we reach the Normal Hill scrap yard." Sheppard reached out to open Ratchet's door again as Ronon circled around to the passenger side. "And uh…let's try to leave this part out of our mission reports."

"Agreed," Epps and Lennox said together, and got into Ironhide's cab.

As the two Autobots carried the humans back out onto the open highway, Reflector scrambled out from his hiding place underneath a leaky Pinto, his metal fingertips clacking together eagerly. Soundwave would be _very_ pleased to know where Optimus' underlings were headed. _Very_ pleased. Megatron might even request his presence himself!

Overwhelmed by the idea of meeting their esteemed leader at last, the tiny Decepticon transformed into his travel mode—a replica of a child's toy jet plane. In a burst of light, he shot off into the sky to deliver his report.

* * *

-

TBC


	8. No Country For Old Mentors

**_Same Side_**

**_---_**

AN: I'm either going to get a lot of negative feedback from fans of the G1 series, or no feedback at all. Dunno which is worse. Ooooh, this must be how Michael Bay feels! That poor man...

Feeelings...nothing but feeeelings....

* * *

-

_Chapter Eight: No Country for Old Mentors_

_-  
_

Ronon and Sheppard hunkered down behind the old beaten caretaker's building, signaling to each other. With a serious face, the Satedan slunk down the wall and crouched next to the colonel. He rest his hand and the blaster in it on his knee. "What are you thinking?" he asked, noticing his friend's furled brow.

"About Rodney," the colonel admitted. "Wondering if he's awake by now. And about blowing stuff up."

"You too, huh?" Ronon half-grinned. "So what happens if we have to fight these Decepticons?"

"What we always do. We shoot them. Hopefully that'll be enough, seeing how it works pretty well for Lennox and his pals. Don't tell me you're having second thoughts about fighting the bad guys, Ronon. You are still Ronon, right?"

"Just thought you might have another plan," the nonchalant reply came. "I don't like just sitting around until someone gives me an order to shoot."

"Really. I hadn't noticed."

Normal Hill was a big junkyard, filled with mostly scrapped automobile parts and junk from local industrial buildings. There were piles of wickedly twisted metal towering up to four stories above their head, some dwarfing even Optimus Prime—if he were here, that is. The scrap yard was divided into four main sections with two main roads cutting straight through them like an intersection in a suburb of junk. Well, _almost_ straight across. The massive walls of debris kept the center of the yard pretty well hidden from the outside world, which is where Sheppard and Ronon were hiding out right now. Supposedly, the energy signal was coming from somewhere within a fifty yard radius of the rundown building that served as an office for the organization and processing of Normal Hill's spare parts.

"Brigadier, this is Scarecrow One," the colonel said into his earpiece. "No visual on the contacts just yet. I'm going to get a little closer to check it out."

"_Negative, Scarecrow. We have no justified target. We are waiting on Blue Leader for confimation on hostiles."_

Ronon sighed. "You people and your call signs. Why do you even bother?"

"Sometimes we just make them up because they sound cool," Sheppard said with a defiant smirk. "But I guess if there really are hostile robots in the area, we don't want to alarm them by revealing the fact that we're with the United States military."

"Maybe Optimus isn't coming," the Satedan suggested. "We haven't heard from him in almost thirty minutes. By the time he gets here, it could be too late."

"We don't even know how many there are, Ronon," the colonel chided him, keeping his voice barely above a whisper. "There could be more than two. This might just be me, but I'd rather have the big guy around before we start trading rounds with the killer robots."

_"Scarecrow One, do you copy? We're detecting an increase of activity on your end. What's going on over there?"_

Hunching his head and shoulders down, Sheppard half-crawled away from the shielding corner of the building to hide behind a dead bush, peering over the top of its brambles. From here, all he could see was an open clearing of dirt in the middle of the junk piles, a few trashed cars and an oddly new-looking SUV parked about forty meters to the north.

"Negative on the activity, Brigadier. We have eyes on a possible target, but there's just the one. I'm going to see if I can flush out a rabbit. Scarecrow out."

He switched his radio to standby, not particularly wanting to hear the objections on the other end. Ronon shot him a questioning look, to which he tilted his head a little and gripped his P90 a little tighter. "What? I outrank him." He paused. "Technically speaking."

"You're the one who decides to mess with the man who's best friends are heavily armed giants with superior technology, not me."

"Thanks for your support."

"Anytime."

Sheppard waved his fingers and gave the signal to head out, boots scraping the dirt and gravel gently as he swept like a shadow against the wall of the building. He turned his radio back on and kept the barrel of his weapon trained on the back of the silent SUV, circling around to its left side, while Ronon vanished from sight into the lightless areas on its right. They both didn't realize until much later how stupid it was to try and sneak up on a incredibly advanced robotic entity in the dark.

It was quiet. Too quiet. He might not know a lot about these things, but he didn't figure they went to sleep. Quite possibly, this vehicle wasn't even one of them. It was possible he was ordering one of his team members to outflank a normal mid-sized 6-cylinder SUV. In that case, he didn't want this part of his mission report to reach his superiors, either.

The colonel dipped his hand into his vest and pulled out his binoculars. He examined the SUV's license plate through the lenses. It was a California plate; strange, but not enough to make it alien. Nothing on the outside looked out of the ordinary. Against the pale lighting of the partially burt out floodlight behind the car, he could make out the shape of an air freshener dangling from the rearview mirror. He sighed and lowered the binoculars. Great; he'd either found a Decepticon with a good eye for detail, or they were staking out Dodge's latest trend.

"Brigadier, be advised," he said, tapping his earpiece. "I'm starting my approach. Be ready for anything."

With that out in the air, Sheppard stepped out from behind his cover and began to creep towards the SUV at a cautious pace. He didn't make it ten feet when he got his answer.

The rear windows of the dark blue SUV flipped around, the tailpipe and bumper folded in half and began to rescend inside of the pairs of arms and legs unfolding from between its rear wheels, and a mass of whirring motors and metal facets emerged from its rapidly evolving center. As the autonomous robot stood up, narrow rods and plates clinking together to form its head and face, the scrap yard seemed to stand still. Sheppard was frozen until he heard the whine of _extremely_ powerful-sounding weapons come to life, and he opened fire on the alien in front of him.

He heard and saw the flash or red beside him as Ronon joined in the firefight. A split second after his bullets began to explode red-and-orange hits on the robot's outer armor, a concusive force ripped through the ground. Sheppard stumbled backwards as he witnessed—of all things—a translucent yellow bubble literally _explode_ from the ground and surround the apparent Decepticon. What he thought were weapons were generators, luminous containers in each of the robot's arms that reminded him of Ancient drones. Armored ones.

Unsurprisingly, a black truck and a Hummer H2 came screeching around a pile of the skyscraping junk, kicking up massive dust clouds that filled the air with a thin, gloomy veil. Ratchet and Ironhide rolled in, rapidly transforming and landing on their feet with weapons firing—not on the Deception on the ground, but upwards. That was when the other giant alien robot erupted from the midst of debris pile, twenty feet or so above their heads.

It was like watching a storm of broken metal pipes and splinters come raining down from overhead. Sheppard saw Lennox and Epps dash across the yard for cover, narrowly avoiding being crushed by the skeleton of a rusted Chevrolet. The much larger Decepticon descended through the air, landing with a ground-shaking 'whump' and charged the long-barreled blasters on top of its arms. It swung them towards Ratchet and fired. Blue light flooded the junkyard for a moment as the twin beams sliced past the medical officer's head and tore a molten hole in the wall of scraps behind him.

Then the entire area became a battlefield. It might have lasted seconds, or minutes, but Sheppard was too busy running from one place to the next in order to dodge the scattered crossfire. Their enemies didn't seem too interested in the humans, possibly because they were harder targets to hit...and possibly because of the two Autobots drawing their attention towards the onslaught of firepower. Either way, it gave him plenty of opportunities to fire on the first robot's defensive shield. It was starting to flicker and waver under the barrage of missiles and cannon blasts, but still the Decepticon refused to drop it and fight. Even weirder, the large crimson-and-silver plated Decepticon was circling around the barrier, as though trying to protect his ally from their attackers.

The battle might have gone on for a lot longer, inevitably drawing more attention from the locals and upsetting the public balance. However, it all ended very quickly when Optimus came rolling into the middle of it all at fifty miles an hour, transforming into his bipedal form in mid-slide. The Autobot leader held out a massive hand towards his allies. "Autobots! Stand down!"

Miraculously, the Autobots did just that. So did the Decepticons. With that one moment's intervention, the conflict died. There was a chorus of servos clattering as all of the robots' weapons were disarmed and transformed back into what passed for 'normal' parts.

Sheppard and Lennox, who were now rejoined shoulder-to-shoulder, also found themselves lowering their weapons. Ronon didn't. Even Lennox had no clue what was happening, right up until the silence was broken/

"Optimus Prime," said the larger of the two Decepticons in a bass, gravely voice. The word 'Prime' was spoken in a way that was inflated with half-sincere respect. "I never once thought I would have to stand in your presence again. You appear changed."

"I may have learned a thing or two since our last meeting, Storm Jet," Optimus replied. "It is good to see you alive, old friend."

"Spare me the long-expired sentimentals, Prime," his 'old friend' warned, taking an earth-shuddering step back as he turned to look down at his partner. The navy blue robot was looking about with the excited abandon of a teenager in a theme park. "Putting aside this 'misunderstanding', I am only here to return one of your subordinates to his rightful place."

Optimus' blue optics fell on the smaller one. There was hesitation there. "It can't be," he spoke thoroughly. "Trailbreaker."

Ratchet strode towards the blue 'Autobot'. "Trailbreaker? You were killed by Starscream on Cybertron years ago. Your parts were...scattered across the battlefield. We could not make an identification. I remember clearly how distraught Bumblebee was upon learning of your demise."

"Aw, Ratchet, you really thought some bent glitch like Starscream could scrap me?" Trailbreaker's voice was the complete opposite of the larger Autobot's. It sounded young and edgy, and strangely more urban, like from the depths of a large American city. He had a slimmer look to his bipedal form than the other Autobots, with a face that was long and V-shaped. There was a bumper sticker decorating the metal shaft that protruded from his shoulder that had the familiar 'I heart New York' slogan on it. "You know, back then I took a gamble just when it was getting hot, got knocked into a great big crack in the ground and got my aft stuck for days. Then Storm Jet came along after you guys left and got me. You don't know how great it is to see your face again, old-timer. And Ironhide, even though I know we don't get along, I went and missed ya just the same."

"I thought I recognized that pulse-scanning polarized defense barrier," the weapons specialist commented dryly.

It was unnerving for Lennox to not only watch the Autobots welcome the newcomers with reserved delight, but there was something very odd about the way Optimus was acting. Call it human intuition, but the big guy seemed to be holding himself differently in front of Storm Jet. It was almost impossible to tell just what it was the dark crimson Autobot was supposed to transform into—not a land vehicle, obviously. Putting his name into consideration, it was likely the imposing new robot had an aerial alternative mode. He even _looked _impressive, almost as powerful as Optimus and right about the same size.

"Now, I'll be leaving. But before you return to your little game of war, Prime, I must ask you this," Storm Jet questioned as he began to turn around, casting his emblazoned blue optics over his shoulder. "Why side with these simple-minded creatures? They attacked us when their senses were blinded by fear. They are primitive and self-destructive beyond all means of help."

Taking his attention away from the silenced Trailbreaker, the Autobot leader said, "The humans may seem unaccomplished to you, Storm Jet. I know far too much about you to try to change your mind. Still, they are neither simple, nor primitive. And they have fought with us as valuable allies. Even comrades."

"Hah," the disgrunted Storm Jet barked. "Thought just as much. I wasted my time coming to this planet. Trailbreaker, you really do belong with Prime and his petting zoo. So long."

With a chorus of snaps, the crimson Autobot crouched and leapt into the air, transforming. The humans on the ground only caught a glimpse of the curved outline of the alien jet before it shot off into the sky, leaving behind nothing but a blue flickering dot and the vanishing sound of his engines.

After the strange stillness across the junkyard settled, Ratchet made a 'humph' with his vocal processors. "That would explain why he didn't contact Optimus when he arrived. Hotheaded as always—too brash to be little more than a nuisance with large guns."

"Hey, guys?" Lennox partially shouted into the open night air. Several pairs of robotic eyes swiveled towards him as he strode away from his sheltered scrap heap and into their midst. "One of these simple-minded creatues would like to know what the hell just happened here."

"My apologies, Major Lennox," said Optimus somberly. "That was an embarrassing display. Allow me to introduce my communications officer, Trailbreaker: a long-lost friend and member of my contingent from Cybertron."

"Nice to meet ya, skin buddies," Trailbreaker said with a rising level of enthusiasm in his voice, pointing at them with a group of slender fingers. "Been scanning your fictional audio and video frequencies from your planet's orbit, and I gotta say you're all not that bad. Only this crazy mixed up 'love' thing you got going between the men and the ladies? Too much drama, ya know?"

"Charmed," Sheppard cut in, flanked by Ronon and Epps as he moved into the broken floodlight's haze. "Excuse me for being a bit confused, but...that guy that just insulted us and flew off...he's _not_ a Decepticon?"

"Storm Jet is one of the most esteemed warriors ever known to Cybertronian history," Optimus explained. "In spite of his contradictory nature, he is loyal to the Autobots. His hatred of the Decepticons is only rivaled by his passion for battle. He is both very wise, and very dangerous."

"He was also once Optimus' mentor," Ratchet said with the air of observation, lacking conviction. "For a brief time, anyway. When he learned that Optimus was a descendant of the Primes, he quit the war, and vanished."

"Indeed." Optimus was abrupt for once. "This is not the time for that story. The local human authorities were alerted to my escape and are inbound as we speak. We must hurry."

"Well why didn't you say so?"Sheppard scratched the dust from his hair and nodded to Ronon. "Sorry about shooting at you and all, Trailbreaker. You just sort of...startled me, that's all. No hard feelings?"

"You and that pea-shooter keep your apologies, skin," the narrow-faced Autobot said, waving a dismissive hand. "I've got a ton of questions for you guys when we get back to base. Hey, uh...where's that again?"

Somewhere close by, a dog began to bark aggresively. The sound echoed through the jagged peaks of steel debris and didn't mask the even fainter ambience of police sirens. Sheppard dragged his hand across the safety of his P90 and let it hang around his neck. Epps and Lennox followed suit. The colonel turned to them as Ratchet approached Trailbreaker in the background and began to scan him for damage.

"Is anyone else having trouble telling the good guys from the bad ones?" he asked, mostly whispering. "Or is it just me?"

"Nobody's perfect, Sheppard," said Lennox. "I don't know what textbook on our of species you've been reading, but even the good guys have bad days."

"Autobots," Optimus announced, cutting off Sheppard's reply. "Roll out."

With the command given, the remaining autonomous robots transformed back into their alternate modes, even as the police sirens grew louder in the distance. Ratchet and Optimus both opened their doors for the human members of the team, despite Trailbreaker's overeager offer to let them ride with him. The communications officer was striking Lennox as one strange, overly friendly alien. How the heck someone like Storm Jet and Trailbreaker got associated, was one of the universe's greatest mysteries. Even Arcee, who he'd imagined was the nicest of the bunch so far, had her reservations about human capabilities. But there could be another shoe waiting to drop. Especially after Galloway got his political claws around Trailbreaker's servos.

When the Alabama state police finally arrived on scene, a diesel truck, a Hummer H2, a midnight blue SUV, and a large black pick-up were already a block down the street, lined up at the nearest red cruisers pulled into the dusty junkyard as the four Autobots turned at the intersection, and made for the highway.

After fifteen minutes of silence or so, Sheppard turned a pair of meaningful eyes on Ronon and folded his arms. "Well, at least we got to see some stuff blow up."

Ronon grunted.

* * *

-

TBC


	9. Short Circuits

_**Same Side**_

_**---  
**_

AN: Giving people the details on the teams' briefings seems silly. It takes the element of surprise out of the missions. And this is another long-winded chapter. Sorry, action-lovers...

I know the 'inaccurarcies' of this chapter might have some Stargate fans irked...apologies beforehand. I chose this direction before I rewatched Season Five...

* * *

-

_Chapter Nine: Short Circuits_

_-  
_

"Welcome back, Colonel Sheppard. Major Lennox," said the young sergeant, saluting them rigidly. There were three more soldiers guarding the entrance to Compound 1, and there were always the friendly snipers, too. It felt a little weird to John, coming back to a mostly unfamiliar Stargate outpost without a greeting from the head of operations—Weir, Carter or Woolsey, respectively. Now that he _was_ the head of operations, his next move wasn't so clear to him. He was like the running back in a football team, and someone promoted him to coach. Without the benefits, of course.

There _was_ the IOA representative and Homeworld Security to deal with, of course. That debriefing was in an hour, and being the head honcho for the Stargate team, it was a gathering he just couldn't pass up. For now, there were a few familiar faces he wanted to see. After being stuck in a three-hour decontamination 'conference' outside base grounds—aliens from outer space carrying violent space germs and all—he'd been away for a good twelve hours now without intel about his team.

"Hey, uh," he said, turning to one of the soldiers. "You don't happen to know where Teyla and Dr. McKay are? Teyla; she's the pretty one, and McKay's the..." He paused. "Canadian one."

His addressee glanced around nervously. A new guy, probably, too afraid to make a mistake to pay attention to those details. "I...I'm afraid I don't know that, sir."

"I haven't seen Teyla, Colonel," another one of the guards said; Lieutenant Brady, or so he thought. "But Dr. McKay left Compound 1 about forty-five minutes ago, heading to the CAR. He appeared excited, sir."

"Oh." Sheppard tilted his head a little to look at Ronon. The others had gone inside already, including Optimus, Trailbreaker and Ratchet. Ironhide went back to his own warehouse—the newly ordained Compound Autobot Residence, or CAR for short. "He's awake. Good. Coming, Ronon?"

"Colonel, your debriefing will be at twenty-two hundred hours, sir," Brady reminded him, not flinching a muscle.

"Yeah, yeah, I know." The colonel slapped his teammate on the shoulder. "We're just going to go pay him...them, a visit."

There were no golf carts nearby, so they had to cross the lot by foot under the bright illuminating lights of the compound. Sheppard could think of more than one reason McKay would sacrifice the comfort and safety of his own hospital bed to go visit the alien robots, and all of them made him nervous. With that on his mind, it wasn't long before he noticed out of the corner of his eye that Ronon was itching his arms and shoulders aggressively. "What's up?" he asked.

"Dunno," said the Satedan. "My arms feel funny."

The colonel glanced behind him. "Strange and tingly funny, or Robin Williams funny?"

Ronon's eyes glowered back. "They won't stop itching. Must of hit a patch of poison ivy or something."

"Oh yeah, there's lots of that in Montgomery, Alabama." As they came within a good range of the CAR, he thought he heard McKay's voice over the ambiance of crickets and Ronon's grumbling. "Tell me if it gets worse. Wouldn't want to make a bad impression on the folks here by spreading around an annoying rash."

Now he _knew_ he heard a loud crash coming from inside the CAR building. The warehouse's entrance was only half-open, glowing from the inside with the Autobot's own sources of wide-area lighting. It was as if something very large had been chucked against the wall of the CAR closest to them. Both the colonel and Ronon broke into a sprint, racing inside to investigate without even noticing that that soldiers on duty hadn't even batted an eye.

It shouldn't have surprised Sheppard to see Mudflap, in his bipedal form, ram straight into his twin brother with the deadly force of a two ton sledgehammer. The reckless Autobots collided in another explosion of scraping and clanging metal, but oddly enough, Skids wasn't doing a whole lot of fighting back. In fact, Ironhide was standing a fair distance behind them, making no attempt to break up their scuffle. Sheppard's mouth opened slightly as he witnessed Mudflap get a good grip on the front of the other Twin's chest plate and swing him around—and around, and around—letting go and sending the green Autobot sailing straight toward them..

"Whoa!" Sheppard dove to his right, hit the ground and rolled. Still in a half-curled position, he watched Skids bounce past him at a breakneck speed and smash into the wall. That impact would have flattened about six feet of a normal-sized school bus. He pushed himself to his feet and turned angrily on the audience—which included a brightly grinning McKay, unsurprisingly—and shouted, "What the _hell_ is going on here?"

"Sheppard!" called Rodney with an overtone of delight. He was holding onto one of his portable laptop interfaces, looking for all purposes, _ecstatic_ with what was going on. "This is great! You're just in time to see this."

"Oh, man...Ah'm alrigh'," came Skids' voice, as the robot got wobbily to his feet. There wasn't a dent on him. As he staggered forward, a pale green shimmer rippled over his metal exterior and then died. "Ah'm good. Yo, wassup Fluffball? You saw tha', didncha? We been busy teachin' whiney over there how _real _robots take it back, haven' we, Mudflap?"

"Shut yo trap, Skids. It's my turn now," The orange-red Autobot approached his brother, on the verge of starting another physical brawl.

"Whoa, whoa, whoa, whoa!" McKay said loudly, gripping the laptop even tighter with one hand and holding out the other. "No one try _anything _yet. There's barely enough power in the device to fend off a _mosquito _attack let alone what you've been doing to each other. But, uh..." He looked up, with a weaker smile. "That was an amazing practice run. I mean, it didn't...last as long as I hoped, but considering I just thought it up in about, oh...six hours? Outstanding. You guys, obviously, did most of the work, but—"

"_McKay_." Sheppard was standing about twenty feet away from the scientist now, glaring angrily at him. "What are you doing?"

"What's it _look_ like, Colonel?" came the snappish reply. "Utilizing what little time I have before the Oversight Advisory calls even _more_ complete morons to try and usurp my job as the Compound's chief scientific advisor. Also, uh...working on an idea that came to me back on M2G-134. The...frozen moon, that is."

"Obviously," Sheppard snapped back, climbing the few stairs to the slightly elevated platform where all of the odds and ends were stacked up and sorted. For someone as jittery as McKay, he didn't seem at all worried about the fifteen foot tall alien robot silently hovering over him. "Seeing as your little _experiment_ almost got me and Ronon killed. Aren't those guys supposed to be under house arrest?"

"Well, yes." Rodney looked a little uncomfortable as the Twins sauntered up to them, exchanging the occasional push or shove as they traded quips and insults. "That is, until I...asked for permission to test the Autoshield, and...well, they were the only ones who were here, so..."

"Right. So getting the big alien equivalants to Tweedle Dee and Tweedle Dum to test a brand new _weapon_ was a _great_ idea,' the colonel chastised. "And what did I say about naming things when I'm not around? Furthermore, what the heck is the Autoshield_?_"

"Look, it's a prototype, alright?" McKay sniped at him with annoyance. "I was working on a portable shielding device for non-Ancient or Asgard-type vehicles before we even got here, and after what happened on M2T-134, I got this brilliant idea to modify its positive and negative energy markers in order to better suit the flexibility and mobility of the Autobots. And guess what? It works." A second later, he frowned and went back to typing something into the sceen of his laptop. "Mostly."

Sheppard's eyes flickered upwards to Ironhide. "You didn't try to stop them?"

"If I had, it would not have made any difference," Ironhide defended dourly. "McKay's little toy is an interesting theory. Hardly something we could use against the Decepticons, but an amusing effort nonetheless."

Rodney rolled his eyes at the Autobot impatiently. "Yes, well, _thanks_. You won't be saying that when I make an improved version of the device. In fact, you'll be thanking _me."_

_"_Don't provoke the man...Autobot, Rodney," Sheppard said. "Shouldn't you be resting right now?"

"Hey, I was cleared for duty. No, no, no, that's not important. Do you have _any_ idea how much this could affect the war with the Wraith?" As everyone stared at him for an awkward moment, he added, "And the Decepticons. Obviously, the Decepticons first since they're the reason you're here. The Wraith are just...uh, yeah. Anyway, the inertial dampening effects of the device still needs significant improvement, but the actual absorption of the energy field is remarkable. Obviously it's nothing but sub-par to the Ancient personal shield we discovered...rather, _I_ discovered back on Atlantis. Still, its worth a few shots before it goes down. A major tactical advantage, to say the least?"

"I don't know about 'major', Rodney, but yes, that sounds like it would be a help." The Twins were standing nearby now, and Sheppard took this moment to sit down on an empty oil drum. "We'll get back to this in a second. You heard about the new addition to the team yet?"

"You talkin' about Trailbreaker," Mudflap pointed out, nodding at his twin. "We don' know him much, 'cept that he's s'posed to be _dead_."

"Well, he's not. Thought I'd let you know that."

"Wait, wait, wait...there's a debriefing in a little while, isn't there?" asked McKay.

"Yes, Rodney. And no, you're not coming. You're going back to bed. I know you, and you probably haven't stopped working on that damn shield since you got up this morning."

"Colonel, don't you realize I _know_ what's going on here?" the scientist said with a slightly aggravated tone. "As usual, when things get heavy, the military gets _all _the credit for taking care of business. So excuse me for feeling like I have to do _something_."

"That's what this is about? Credit?" Sheppard narrowed his eyes at him. "Funny, I thought it was about helping our allies defend themselves against our enemies."

"Well, of _course_ that's the main reason, or else I'd be working on something like...oh, I don't know, _fixing_ the Stargate?"

With the trained gaze equal to a prosecuting lawyer, the colonel slid off the oil drum and started to advance on McKay. "The Stargate is broken?"

"Ah, yes, the wormhole device," Ironhide cut in with a hint of intrigue. "Dr. McKay has told me that the material used in the construction of the Stargate is not compatible with even our Energon systems. Even at such a low energy output in its refined state, Energon appears to react badly with the gate's molecular construction sequence. Does more harm than good to both participating elements."

"I know," Rodney sighed, before either Sheppard or Ronon could question that. "What he means is, the Stargate wasn't designed to break down and reconstruct this...'Energon' to begin with. It _can_, but not easily. Energon is a type of energy that doesn't exist anywhere else in the known universe—I'm not surprised the Ancients never ran across it. From what we've been able to gather—and it's not much—the Stargate isn't having so much as a negative effect on the Autbots as they are on the 'gate. It's like using a twelve volt adapter for a four point five volt output device. Sure, it'll work, but, sooner than later...you're going to fry the circuits."

"So what you're saying is, we can't have you guys coming and going all the time," Sheppard concluded, looking up at the large black Autobot.

"As little as possible," Rodney corrected. "Look, it'll be a miracle if the Brady Bunch over there even gets it back up and running within a week_. _Either you Autobots are going to have to figure out a way to operate with as little energy as possible, or _I'm_ going to have to figure out how to program the Stargate to withstand the power surges that occur during transit. I'm willing to be a month's salary, that it's going to be the latter."

"Well, I believe in you, Rodney." Sheppard folded his arms. "Now go back to your bunker and get some rest. That's an order."

As soon as it was given, two of the 'bodyguards' that had been standing a dozen or so meters away came towards McKay. The scientist rolled his eyes and stood there as they flanked him. "Of course," he muttered as they led him away.

Sheppard smirked gently after him, but stopped when he looked over at Ronon, who was fidgeting. Ronon wasn't the 'fidgeting' kind of guy. "Are your arms still itching?"

"No. They kinda hurt, though."

"Maybe we should get you to the infirmary."

"I'm fine."

"No, you're not. I need you at your best, and no offense, but you're not going to be much help if your arms fall off. Report to the infirmary, and if they say you're okay, meet me in the loft for the debriefing in..." He looked at his watch. "Thirty minutes."

"Whatever." The Satedan turned around and began to walk away, shaking his head. Overcoming the slight guilt he felt after sending two of his most trusted teammates away, the colonel returned his attention to Ironhide and the Twins.

"Sorry about that. McKay can outsmart me most of the time and Ronon can definitely kick my ass, but they sometimes need a good kick in the...rear end. But somehow, I get the feeling you already knew that."

"Perceptive of you," Ironhide commented neutrally. "Such insubordination has been more common around this human outpost than any others I have ever seen. Whenever I believe I understand your strange rituals at last, they change. Tell me, Sheppard—do you humans improvise your allegiances to each other as you experience them, or are you simply governed by the instinct to survive and cannot help it?"

"You're asking the wrong guy," Sheppard answered honestly. The look the weapons' specialist gave him was both irritated and funny. "What?" he defended. "Look, Ronon's from another _galaxy_, trained by who the hell knows what kind of rules his people used to go by, and Rodney's not even military. Technically, neither one of them _have_ to listen to what I say, but I'm still the leader. Someone's gotta make the decisions, and it just so happens that's what I'm good at. No, we don't always see eye-to-eye, but I don't like people who blindly take orders anyway. Fair enough?"

Ironhide's blue optics studied him briefly before the Autobot snorted—or at least _looked_ like he snorted. "You make a good point. I find it very likely your prolonged exposure to this planet has made you all insane."

"Now that," the colonel said, pointing at him just before he turned around. "That might very well be true. I'll get back to you. Autobots," He nodded his head at the Twins and turned to leave the CAR hangar.

And almost ran smack straight into the grill of Optimus in his alternate mode. The colonel paused for a moment, feeling the awkward moment float past them. It was a long, strange moment, filled with crickets and mutual silence. "Uh, hi," John said at last. "I was just checking up on Rodney. Making sure he doesn't get carried away, testing his little experiments with your team."

"It is your team as well, Sheppard," was all the Autobot leader said, before rolling on past. Sheppard slowly curled his hands into fists, then uncurled them, before starting back to Compound 1.

* * *

-

"I'm getting fed up," the colonel admitted out loud.

He and Ronon were the only two sitting at the table inside the briefing room. The Satedan was leaning back in his chair, looking twelve different shades of bored. "Huh?"

"I _get_ that we're on the same team," John told him, scrunching his brow a little. "I don't need to be reminded that this is a joint operation, either. So why the heck is it that I feel like I can't say the right things, or do the right things? 'Cause they all end up making _me_ look like a bad leader."

He was stared at pretty hard. Ronon's eyes burned into him. "You're thinking about this way too much."

"No, I'm not. I'm thinking about it _just_ enough. For example, I'm the ranking military officer here, _and_ I represent not only Atlantis, but the entire Stargate Program on Earth. But this..." He hesitated, wondering if he was using the right word, "..._team_ is a bonafide republic. You got me, Lennox _and_ Optimus all calling the shots. Let me ask you something, Ronon—if I told you to shoot somebody and Lennox said not to, what would you do?"

"Stun or kill?"

"Exactly. And if I gave, say...Ironhide an order to blow up a Wraith dart, and Optimus told him to stand down,you and I know what Ironhide would do. Obviously, we haven't had a lot of time to establish any ground rules, but I don't even see how that's possible when no one be me is interested in making them."

"That's funny, Colonel, hearing you complain about _not_ having a chain of command," said a familiar, sarcastic voice from the loft's door. General yO'Neil came sauntering through, dropping a stack of folders on the table in front of him. "As a matter of fact, Your team _is_ a...republic." He frowned for a second. "Let's use hockey as an analogy instead. I hate politics. Let's put it this way—you're the coach, Major Lennox is the team manager and Optimus...well, he's the referee. It's your experience, Lennox's resourcefulness and the big guy's _extensive_ and _vastly superior_ intellect that make you all 'the leader'. Heck, if I had a special machine, I'd toss all three of you inside and merge you all into one, big..." Having resorted clawing his fingers together to demonstrate his point, the Air Force general lowered them slowly and cleared his throat. "My point is, as far as these missions go, you _all_ call the shots. Is that clear?"

"Yes, sir," Sheppard agreed with a nod.

"Great. Ah, Optimus, you're right on time."

Lennox was entering the room at this time, lost in the background as the Autobot leader transformed and stood up. He sat down opposite of Sheppard, wishing Epps hadn't gotten out of the debriefing by joining Trailbreaker in the security cataloguing of his weaponry. Even with the big guy looming next to them on the outside of the loft, he felt weirdly outnumbered. More than half of the personnel at the Compound were Stargate personnel, after all. In terms of security clearance, they had the advantage—what with a few dozen secret alien species to compare to NEST's one.

"I won't mince words," O'Neil said, getting the ball rolling. "While we're all very glad that the two contacts we _thought_ were Decepticons turned out to be a couple of good guys, the Wraith have been keeping busy. Really busy." Again with the clicker, he pointed at the screen and turned it on. A display showing the usual blips, indicating Wraith signals, burst into life. "Yes, we can all count. There are now _six_ blinking dots of death rather than the eight we were tracking a while ago."

"Wait, we actually scored a hit while we were gone?" asked Sheppard.

"Nope. They did."

Silence spread across the room, before O'Neil went on. "Internal conflict, people. Wake up and smell the alien conspiracies. Our offworld surveillance teams have gathered enough information to make us believe these Wraith are _not_ working together. In fact, they're trying to kill each other."

Lennox was one of the few present who didn't look phased. "Then this is good. Maybe they'll end up destroying each other before they reach Earth."

"Ideally, but no, that's not going to happen." O'Neil hit the clicker again. A planet appeared. "One of the cruisers that was destroyed landed here, on P5Y-232. It then proceeded to kill—not _cull­--kill _ the Jaffa inhabitants. Goa'uld Jaffa, by the way. Anyway, not two hours after it hit the ground, it was attacked and destroyed."

"One Queen must really have it out for the other," Sheppard observed. "I agree with Major Lennox. The more of each other they destroy, the easier it is for us."

"Would you gentlemen allow me to get to the point?" the general inquired, annoyed.

"Sorry."

"Surveillance confirmed that the first cruiser was destroyed in another planet's orbit not a dozen lightyears away, _by_ one of the Hives. But _this_ cruiser was blown up by an unidentified third party—AKA, some Decepticon we haven't had the pleasure of meeting yet."

"So, the Wraith are working with Megatron after all," Optimus observed from outside the loft.

"Wrong again." O'Neil pointed at the screen, where appeared the image of a smoking ruin, littered with bodies. It was obviously a MALP image, with the distortion and distance of the camera from the ground. There was a group of soldiers standing not thirty feet away from it as the machine rolled forward, recording.

"You've got to be kidding me," Sheppard said.

The enemy soldiers—all hyrbids—turned on the approaching MALP and drew their weapons. Five seconds later, the MALP was destroyed and the video broke into static. An uneasy silence filled the room.

Ronon broke it with a sigh. "So Michael's here, with a Wraith Hive ship and a bunch of cruisers...why?"

"You know, I extended an invitation to the Compound tea party, but those darned sociopaths, they just don't like us anymore," General O'Neil responded. "You all know this Michael person...Wraith thing more than I do, so you tell me."

"Revenge," Sheppard said without thinking. "He hates humans _and_ Wraith. Not only does attacking Earth kill a _lot_ of humans, but if he succeeds—which he _won't—_he also deprives the Wraith in the Pegasus galaxy of any chance of culling us. I think that pretty much sums it up."

"This war is escalating far beyond anything we imagined," Optimus remarked, obviously having waited patiently for the moment to interject. "This began as a conflict between my people, between Autobots and Decepticons for a cause that has existed for many thousands of years. With the addition of the Wraith and the followers of this Michael creature, it is very likely we may have started another war with no foreseeable end."

"You know, for a guy named Optimus, I'd expected you to be...oh, I don't know, a little more...optimistic?" said O'Neil.

"The war has been going on for a while now," Sheppard added. "Only difference now, is there's _two_ powerful enemies out there that want to kill us, and one of them has Decepticon allies. _But_, in our defense, _we_ have a whole planet on our side., not to mention the Autobots. We all have the same goal now, there's just more players in the field and...more than one referee."

He'd finished the analogy before realizing its ironic relationship to the one O'Neil used on him, and let it drop there. Lennox was looking at him weirdly again and he didn't want to start another awkward glancing contest.

"There's another problem," Ronon said, still tilting back his chair. "Michael's hybrids don't need to feed, so he'll be harder to hit."

Sheppard opened his mouth to say something, then closed it. "That's...that's a good point. But, his people _were_ on that planet, killing those Jaffa. Either he's trying to drag the Goa'uld into the middle of this, or he's trying to expand his army."

"There are over six billion people on this planet, Sheppard," said Lennox. "I don't care if this guy has an armada of ships, that's a lot of resistance. If one of his cruisers was destroyed by the Decepticons, we can only assume he's expecting a lot more of them to show up. I admit I'm no sociopath, but I'd be gathering an army, too."

"That makes him an easy target," said General O'Neil. "Assuming we get to the planets he's targeting first. If there's Decepticons involved, we're obviously going to have to start sending Autobots with every team involved with these missions."

"...which is a major problem, because McKay told me that the Autobots can't use the Stargate a whole lot," Sheppard finished.

"For now, no, I've decided to suspend 'gate activity here until somebody fixes that darned problem," said O'Neil. "Apparently, though, we have another solution, if a pesky, short-term one that'll take some time to arrange."

The colonel inhaled deeply, already reaching the same conclusion. "Atlantis."

"Bingo. The Atlantis Stargate is still in perfect shape, and hopefully by the time you all get _back_, our problems will be gone with the wind. I have _one_ more thing...to tell you all, of course, before I explain to you how we plan on executing this plan."

"After the past three days, I'm ready for just about anything, General," said Lennox.

Both Ronon and Sheppard spoke simultaneously, "Same."

"If you'll pardon me, General, but I presume what you are about to say involves the Decepticons," Optimus cut in before the general continued. "If they are indeed allied with the Wraith, then there is no doubt they have already disclosed Earth's location. This smells of Starscream's doing. We cannot allow the Decepticons to guide the alien ships here."

"Well, thanks for the buzzkill," O'Neil replied with a substantial amount of ire. "I was leading up to that bit of information for a dramatic flair, but now you've gone and ruined it."

"Sorry."

Sheppard rubbed one of his temples and sighed. "How long?"

"Four, maybe five days, give or take a few hours. They've got quite an impressive hyperspace system set up. Michael's group somehow received Earth's location from the Wraith ship, and he's also on his way. Our only option is to pounce on them whenever they stop to cull...or forcibly augment their army. One or the other."

"I guess this would be as good a time as any to bring up the report I received from NEST headquarters," Lennox said, putting the folder he had been leafing through down on the table. "There's a few reports from the Russian intelligence agencies that one or more Decepticons are hiding out in the Karhelev mountain range close to the Chinese border. They've already made one pass at the nuclear power plant stationed there, but I doubt they'll leave it at that."

"We will have to split our forces once more," said Optimus. "I will return to NEST headquarters to debrief the remaining Autobots on the situation in Karhelev. Ironhide will be left in charge of the situation here until that is dealt with. Since I believe this current mission will greatly depend on the element of surprise, I am sending the Twins with you to Atlantis, Sheppard. General O'Neil is well acquainted with the specifics."

As the Autobot leader turned away to leave, Lennox shifted his eyes around the table. "I've already read what's in store for us, and while I'm not completely sold, it's the best we've got."

"M9M-100," O'Neil, began, using the remote to change the screen for a third time. "Home to Ori worshippers. It's also where we're going to set a trap for the cruiser on its way there, so listen up. Even I think this one is loonier than Sunday morning cartoons."

* * *

-

TBC


	10. Crouching Robot, Hidden Hybrid

**_Same Side_**

**_

* * *

_**-

_Chapter Ten: Crouching Hybrid, Hidden Robot_

_-_

"Dahm da-dahm dahm, _dahm!_" sang the bright green Twin, sauntering with the grace of a two point five ton robot under the cover of dense foliage. In a very non-ninja-like manner, he tip-toed towards the aft end of the big alien ship where the supposed hangar bay entrance would be. "This robot is on da lose, so ya better run and hide, 'cause we the _Twins _without no limits, so ya'll prepare ta die, dah-damn, dahm!"

"That don' even rhyme, stupid-aft!" his red-orange brother berated him from nearby. The tip of his metal foot hit a protruding rock and he went careening forward"You ain't never been on a mission before, or wha? Stop singin' an' look around for possible contacts."

"The only contact you gonna get is ma foot up yo aft, Mudface. We done this hundreds of times. 'Scuse me for tryin' to express ma genuine creativity, jus' 'cause you don't got some."

"How we s'posed to get in an' out undetected with you yappin' it up all the time?" A large metal hand 'thwacked' the green Autobot over the head from behind.

Respectively, their specialty _was_ infiltration—back on Cybertron, of course, it was easier to infiltrate the ranks of other big robotic lifeforms, since they could blend in with _style_. Even on Earth, they could get into all kinds of fun places inside big human cities without a security camera laying a single frame on them. Neither one would admit it, but their skills didn't extend so much to getting inside a slimy life-sucking alien spaceship without being detected, let alone getting out again with all their parts intact. That's why they needed the Fluffball and his other human friends to make a distraction so they could get in and out quickly.

"Why we even doin' this?" asked Skids, ducking under a low tree branch. The pair sloshed through a stream, getting even closer to the enbankment that concealed the cruiser from view. "Who's messed-up plan put us out here anyway?"

"If you'd been listenin' to Ratchet back at da Compound, like you was s'posed to--"

It was then they crested the small cliff that overlooked the alien cruiser, and Mudflap went silent. A moment later, he said, "Damn, tha's a big motha..."

"Hey, Fluffball, we got our eyes on yo prize," Skids delivered to the colonel's radio, swinging down to the even ground below via a branch as thick as his right arm. "Wha's da hold up?"

"_Just taking down the last of the welcoming party_," Fluffball's voice came over the Autobot's receptor. "_Stick to the plan, guys. Don't go any further until the bay doors are open._"

"This boy think we're suicidal or what?" Mudflap asked his brother, shaking his head. There was no sign of life around the landed cruiser, but they weren't crazy. The idea of infiltration didn't involve charging straight up to the enemy's domain and blowing things up.

On second thought, maybe it did.

Fifteen seconds later, a vertical split appeared in the cruiser's hull and began to slide open. Three Darts came screaming out of the hangar inside, followed by two more that swooped in a wide arc aroud the ship's 'wing' and disappeared. Mudflap shoved his twin forward. "It's hot out here. Let's make it rain."

Together, the Twins leapt down the embankment and began to sprint for the steadily closing hangar bay door. As they barreled down on the ship, two more Darts shot out of the shrinking gap and split apart, coming straight at the pair of Autobots from either side. Skids dove and rolled ungently across the flat stones, creating a spray of sparks that were lost in the explosion of blue light behind him. Just as with the Darts back on P4M-426, their weapons were designed to destroy rather than stun.

Mudflap opened up a barrage of super-heated bullets on the screamer that bore down on him. Its left wing burst into smoke and flame and it veered out of control before slamming into a tree. The second Dart was already starting to bank around to fly back at them, but the Twins weren't dumb. They clambered up to the bay door, and tumbled through the opening before it clammed got to their feet looked around the rather sizable hangar with widened optics.

"Masta-ful. Now dis is a crib," remarked Skids, sauntering forward. "I think I see our target straight up there, on that pillar thingy. Lemme have those fireworks."

"Aw, damn. Uh, oh." Mudflap was poking and searching around the compartment on his left arm, where he'd kept the C4 given to them by the humans. "I think I lost it."

The red Autobot almost collided with his twin when Skids stopped on the narrow bridge. Skids jabbed a finger at him. "How d'ya lose an _explosive_? That ain't even stupid, it's plain _dumbass_, s'what that is."

If Mudflap had a retort, it was lost when a sudden flurry of blue bolts shot past them. Battle instinct drove both of the twins to roll out of the way, though some of the stunner blasts hit their armour. Most glanced off without affecting them, but one struck Skids in the vulnerable circuits where his leg met his body. Another hit the circuits under his shin. "Ow, ow! There's _two_ of us! Why ya'll pickin' on me?"

It wasn't long before the group of five human-like Wraith hybrids that had gathered on the platform ahead were downed by the Autobot's superior guns. Skids hopped forward on one leg, cussing about the strange twitchiness of the affected servos from the stunner. They reached the tower-like console in the middle of the platform, one that seemed to stretch to the ceiling of the hangar. It had a glowing, slimy screen on it and some even slimier-looking buttons grafted on its surface.

"I'm gonna have nightmares 'bout this place," Mudflap complained, nudging one of the hybrid's bodies aside with a metal foot. He tapped into Sheppard's radio, glancing around the strangely dormant hangar at the same time. "Hey, uh...Sheppard, we got a problem."

Amidst the racket of gunfire and wailing Darts, Fluffball's voice came back, "_Enlighten me."_

"Well see, Skids made me drop dat bomb you gave us," the Autobot lied, which earned him a punch from behind. "Ow! I mean, uh...we got no boom for the room. Wha's the plan?"

"_I already _told _you the plan. Make that console blow up somehow—I don't care how, just figure it out. Get out here as soon as you can. We can't hold out here forever."_

"Somethin' crawled up his aft an' died," said Mudflap when the radio went silent. He rapped on the tall metal console with his knuckles, as the sound echoed around the chamber. "Now how we gonna get _out_ with the door all jammed up like that?"

"Uh oh, I think we movin'," his twin pointed out, a second before the bridge under their feet gave a sudden lurch. The entire ship aroud them began to tremble with life and emit an airy hum as it prepared to take off. "I don' like this."

"A'ight, now this robot's _mad_," Mudflap proclaimed, making a fist with his larger left hand. He lifted it high and brought it down heavily on the console. With both hands, he struck the alien machine over and over again. "Nobody. Captures. Da twins. Alive! Take this! How's that feel?"

As more and more pieces came breaking off the towering structure, it seemed the only damage it took was superficial. But with one last sledgehammering fist to the controls, it released a loud screeching sound, making the red Autobot jump back. A bright red light began to flash in the center of the broken console. The screeching sound, not unlike a weird alien version of an alarm, continued to echo through the hangar over and over again.

"Good job, dumbaft! Now we stuck inside da ship about to esplode!" Skids said, shoving his twin away from the machine.

"No we ain't!" cried Mudflap, just as his exclamation came true. Almost seconds after the klaxons went off, many of the Darts inside the hangar had sprung to life. But rather than take any interest in the twin Autobots in the center of the chamber, they made a beeline for the bay doors. The first half dozen or so were already through the narrow, widening crack in the hull.

The Twins didn't waste a moment. Simultaneously, they transformed into their faster alternate modes and burned rubber to accelerate down the thin strip of bridge towards the hangar door. With a cloud of Wraith Darts behind them, they shot straight out into the open air...and began to fall. There was no telling how high the cruiser had managed to lift off, but the pair of them returned to their bipedal forms and plummetted, screaming for dear life.

Fifty feet or so later, Mudflap crashed into a field and rolled over half a dozen times before getting on his feet. His brother was less lucky, and bounced along for a good ten seconds before hitting an inconspicuous boulder in a miniature symphony of _pings_ and _clangs_. They both barely managed to wobble to their feet and assess their damage before they were distracted by the sounds of battle.

Sheppard, Ronon and Epps were all nearby, a distance of a hundred yards or so away, crouching behind various landscape objects to shield themselves from the oncoming Dart assault. Trailbreaker and Ratchet were unleashing a small arsenal on the swarm of ships with their back to the Stargate—which was unsurprisingly active—but it didn't take a genius to see they were outnumbered. Ironhide was in front of them, doing most of the damage to the swarm of attackers, but even his cannons couldn't charge and fire fast enough to turn the tide of the battle. Yelling out various insults, Trailbreaker dashed back and forth, switching between his broad yellow energy barrier and what looked and sounded like a mini-railgun. It was all very effective, but still not enough.

"_Good to see you back in once piece, guys," _came Sergeant Epps' voice over the Twins' receptors. "_When that thing took off, I figured we'd seen the last of you."_

They were enveloped by a chaotic mess of two dozen Darts criss-crossing over the field, deploying their culling beams in random patterns over the solid stone and dry grass. Ratchet and Trailbreaker held their own, staying well out of the beams as they swept by and Ironhide made sure to shoot down any Dart foolish enough to try and capture him. Sheppard, his two human teammates and the four other soldiers in their strike team were having a little more trouble finding cover.

Then the cruiser exploded.

Being so close to the ground, the concussive force of the ship's detonation knocked all of the participants on the battleground off their feet. Ratchet, Ironhide and Trailbreaker rushed to put themselves between the closest humans and the shower of enormous shrapnel, some of which landed heavily on the yellow bubble that crackled around the blue Autobot. Many of the Darts found pieces of the cruiser spearing them through, causing more wreckage to crash to the ground in angry, fiery boils. The ship's carcass itself hit the planet with a knee-shaking earthquake, filling the air with dust and hot embers.

"_Fall back to the 'gate!"_ Sheppard ordered over the radio. There weren't enough trees nearby to provide good cover for the Autobots, and the 'gate was the only thing they had to protect against the onslaught. The Twins, already halfway down the field, began to charge across the field towards the colonel.

"_There's still Darts in the air! I repeat, Darts are incoming! Watch your six!"_

Epps' warning came moments too late. Mudflap aimed his single-barrel at the wailing Dart that was bearing down on them from behind and his first three shots went wide of its sleek body. Sheppard and Ronon focused their fire on the same Dart, but they were too far out of range. It flew high overhead, whisking rapidly towards Skids' and engaged its culling beam. Skids took a dive as the translucent light washed right past him and over the next Autobot in line. Ironhide raised his arm to fire a split second before he vanished inside the beam.

All at once, the remaining Darts in the air turned into a tight, straight-arrow formation and made a mad dash for the active Stargate. With a series of 'schloops', they slipped into the blue portal. Having dove to one side, Sheppard now looked up just in time to watch the last of their fleet making a run for the 'gate before it closed. Digging his shoulder into the earth, he lifted his P90 and took very careful aim. He opened fire.

The last Dart hit the ground nose-first, went spinning end-over-end and slid to a stop in the middle of the field in a spray of dirt. At the same time, the Stargate hissed shut.

It went from distractingly noisy to dead silence in less than a moment. As the dust cloud that hovered over their heads and between bodies thickened into smog of defeat, Ronon and Epps slowly got to their feet. Sheppard, foot numbed by a stunner blast, got back up with the Satedan's help. Everyone was quiet in the wake of the abduction.

"Damn it," the colonel swore, rubbing the dirt out of his eyes. "I should've ordered a retreat behind the 'gate sooner."

"Is that the one that took Ironhide?" asked Ronon, jerking his head towards the downed Dart.

Sheppard turned his head to look at it. "No. It got away." When Ronon lifted his blaster and started to close in on the Dart, he grabbed his arm. "Wait! We need the pilot alive. _If_ he's alive, he'll know the 'gate address to planet they just went to."

"Where are they taking him?" Lennox said, voice hoarse from inhaling the dust and from shouting during the battle.

"I've got a pretty good guess, but you're not gonna like it," the colonel replied, an apologetic twinge coming to his face. "They dialed the 'gate from the cruiser, so we couldn't read it on the DHD." He didn't bother adding that the 'gates in the Pegasus galaxy were a little more advanced, and would have showed the address anyway. It was strange, missing some part of the alien galaxy he'd tried to forget for the past two months.

None of the trio moved as they watched Ratchet drop his guard and approach the Stargate, shaking his head slowly. Trailbreaker looked around awkwardly, like he didn't believe what he'd just seen. Feeling awkward about the whole situation, Sheppard averted his eyes. He knew how _he'd_ feel if one of his teammates was taken by Michael's people; in fact, he _had_ felt it before, on more than one occasion.

"_Major Lennox, sir, we can't locate Lieutenant Marshall,_" a voice came over the radio attached to the major's vest. "_We think it's possible he was taken by one of the enemy aircraft."_

"What's your status, Sergeant? How many men did we lose?" asked Lennox, breaking away from the group and walking towards the place where Ratchet stood.

"_Other than Lieutenant Marshall, all present and accounted for, sir. They had us on the run for a few seconds, but we managed to took down two ships. Both pilots died on impact. We're about half a click south of your position, sir. I think."_

_"_Alright. Head back, but be on the lookout for stragglers. I don't think this is over." In Lennox's eyes, it wasn't over until he figured out what had just happened to Ironhide. Until now, the prospect of an Autobot getting taken by the aliens' culling beams had just been a precautionary theory. With the obvious lack of a large, imposing black truck in the immediate area, that theory was now the truth. A very conspicuous and inconvenient truth.

"What do we do now?" Trailbreaker asked, giving the Stargate an irritated poke. "I know I'm new to this, but that can't be part of the plan, right?" No one answered him, which was an answer in itself.

The cockpit of the Dart that Sheppard had brought down was a gaping hole by the time he and his other teammates came close. At first, it looked as though it were empty. Then a disoriented groan put the three heavily armed men on alert. Lennox and Sheppard circled around the downed aircraft until the pilot came into view—a half-conscious hybrid with blood trickling down his face, slung over the side of the Dart in a partial attempt to escape.

Sheppard cocked his P90 loudly, to get the hybrid's attention. "Hey, there. Let's make a deal. We'll get you the medical attention you need, _if_ you answer our questions."

He knew the hybrids weren't as desperate as the Wraith, at least not enough to use self-destruction as a last resort in defiance of their human captors. It was still good to be wary, even with four other robots with enough firepower to kill this guy five hundred times over hanging around.

"I...am dead...one way or another..." The pilot's slurred words broke through sticky, bloody lips. "Just kill me."

"First tell us where your friends took our people," said Lennox, with a little more ire than his colonel counterpart. "This isn't my first interrogation, soldier. I don't think any of my other robot buddies would have a problem with doing the honours, so you choose: me or them."

Apparently, this hybrid either had previous dealings with the Decepticons and thought of large robotic torture, or the blurred sight of angry-looking fifteen-foot tall robots with weapons provoked his need for survival. If he'd been a Wraith, the answer would have been short and most likely included the words 'savour' and 'defiance', but the pilot had many of his human instincts and memories intact. "I want...my freedom," he hissed. "Passage...through the Ring of the Ancients...in exchange for the address..."

"Sure," lied Sheppard, smirking. "Ronon, mind giving the good pilot a hand?"

Both Epps and Ronon helped the injured hybrid to his feet. With one pale, sickly green arms around the shoulders of both men, the pilot of the Dart moved without so much as a complaint to the nearby DHD, where the Autobots were waiting. The Twins powered up their guns in unison, and pointed them in the hybrid's face. This drew the inquiring glances of their human team members.

"We jus' makin' sure he feels the love," Skids explained, as though it were obvious.

"No, no," Sheppard warned, lifting his P90 again as the hybrid reached for the DHD's buttons. "You get to leave _after_ you give us the right address. Now would be nice."

The hybrid pilot gave the colonel a look that radiated hatred, but withdrew his hand. "How do I know...that you will honour the agreement..."

"Because either you die right now, or you tell us what we need to know and_ hope_ we're men of our word," Lennox shot back. "I don't know about the rest of my men, but I don't have much patience when it comes to rescuing my people. Give us the damn address!"

In a bold act of stubbornness, the hybrid stood there and did not move. It took a few moments for Lennox to struggle with his anger and respond. "He's all yours, boys."

"Payback time, bitch." The barrel of the red Twin's gun hummed as it prepared to fire.

"Wait!" the hybrid growled. Lennox help up a hand, signaling the two Autobots to stand down, which they did with extreme prejudice. "I do not know where they have...taken the machine, but...I can trade you this..." He pulled from a pocket in his ragged uniform a strangely shaped object: a Wraith storage device. "This contains the location of all...of our outposts in this galaxy...it will be at the most heavily guarded..." With a painful grunt, the pilot doubled over and dropped the device.

Ronon looked to Sheppard, and the colonel nodded. With a single motion, the Satedan switched his blaster to stun and fired. The hybrid collapsed on the ground with an airy wheeze.

"We need to get back to Earth, now," Sheppard announced, before either Lennox or Epps could question the silent order. He looked at both non-Atlantis personnel as Ronon bent over to sling the unconscious pilot over his shoulder."McKay needs to take a look at this device. Knowing Michael, the more time we spend here, the less chance we'll have to rescue them."

"Before what?" asked Epps.

The colonel glanced at him before turning around to face the DHD. "I told you, you're not gonna like it." And he dialed home.

* * *

TBC


	11. Grumpiest Old Men

_**Same Side**_

_**-**_

AN: No cliffhanger! Hah, spoiled you.

Don't worry, McKay's coming back. Major Lorne, Sam Witwicky, and Bumblebee to come soon. I caved. Hear my limestone walls whimper under the pressure of the public voice. Creeeeeeaaaak.

* * *

-

_Chapter Eleven: Grumpiest Old Men_

_-  
_

It was just another day in Atlantis.

On Earth.

With Teyla.

"John, I fought with Michael to the death," she told him, halfway through his explanation of what had happened on the moon and the hybrid cruiser. They were standing on the balcony overlooking the Ancient city, but the view wasn't capturing their attention in the slightest."His body was shattered beyond recognition—that is the only image I see when I go to sleep at night, and my certainty of his death has allowed me to rest without fear for my son's life. Michael _cannot_ be in this galaxy."

"Teyla, I told you," Sheppard argued back, losing his edge. It had been a strenuous day. "We know there are a bunch of his hybrids out there on our front porch, but we _don't_ know that it's Michael leading them. Either he's found a way to clone himself, or someone else picked up where he left off. The point is, they're _here_ and I'm going to need your help soon if we're going to be taking the Wraith on all at once."

"I still do not understand why the International Oversight Advisory won't allow us to interrogate the hybrid prisoner," she responded.

"Well, that'll be the first thing I ask them when they come visit us this afternoon." The colonel looked down at the pier, where the Autobots were standing. Other than the Puddlejumper bay and the city's exterior, there weren't many places they could go in Atlantis. In order to use the Stargate, they had to be lowered, in their alternative modes, into the bay from above. One at a time. It took a few hours just to get the team through the 'gate without breaking any of the delicate equipment.

"Teyla," Sheppard sighed, putting his hands on the railing. "Michael's lackeys, with or without his appeal, laid an elaborate trap for us in order to capture one of the Autobots. They even went as far as sacrificing one of their own cruisers to get that chance. We walked right into it. We lost a few good men. I never thought I'd say this, but the IOA has a good reason to be worried." He paused, staring at the mingling robotic lifeforms on the pier, mind churning. "Maybe Lennox and the others have had a long time to get to know those guys, but Ronon, McKay and I don't have that luxury. I'm starting to doubt we'll ever work like a real team. It may even be best to dissolve this alliance thing and work on our own separate problems. Seems like all we ever do to each other is make matters worse."

His Athosian friend was quiet as she contemplated an answer, overlooking the group of aliens without an expression. The wind stirred between them before she spoke. "Dissolve...to imagine what would have become of us if we had chosen to dissolve _our_ alliance back when we were still suspicious of each other. I doubt that any of us would be alive to reflect on the matter."

The colonel flitted his eyes towards her, surprised. It was a very good point. "Maybe," he agreed reluctantly. "Optimus wasn't happy to hear about Ironhide. I didn't even think he was capable of getting angry. Apparently he doesn't like his team getting kidnapped any more than...well..."

"You?" she offered, less asking the question than telling him. "His decision to lead the rescue operation took everyone by surprise, or so I hear. When it comes to his...family, he will not take 'no' for an answer. Does this sound familiar?"

"First of all, don't try to convince me that he and I are anything alike. Optimus Prime's a hell of a lot older and wiser than I am, and let's face it—a better leader than anyone I've ever met. He won't gamble the lives of humans for the sake of rescuing one of his own people, no matter how much he cares about them. You and I both know I don't stop at any limits to get my people home safe. Usually."

"Always. And still, I think that these Autobots are much more like us than we realize," Teyla summarized, sighing softly. "The will to do justice no matter the extent of personal risk, and a deeply understanding nature towards all living sentients. The patience to slow down and understand a species far less advanced than their own, and a willingness to teach them their greatest secrets. To protect billions of people they have never once before met from a threat they could otherwise escape easily...need I go on?"

"Nah. You've made your point. It's a good point." John watched the distance near-identical forms of the Autobots Twins dance back and forth as they exploded into another physical brawl. The sound of metal clanging together and Ratchet's sharp berates floating across the waves filled the next few moments. "Call me paranoid, but even though I've only met one of these Decepticon guys, I've got a feeling they have us outnumbered."

"Then it is a good thing that we have some experience in the field of fighting enemies who vastly outnumber us."

"Of course."

* * *

-

Ratchet had been a curious study of not only the complexity of human genetics and the cultures of these organic natives to Earth, but in other aspects as well. Agriculture, architecture, relationship venues, traditions, business, social hierarchy, even spirituality on some levels that reminded him of their own beliefs, however broad the gaps were between these similarities. With this archived information on hand, he knew without a doubt that this 'city' belonging to the human allies from a neighbouring galaxy was not constructed by the imaginations of organics—not these ones, at least. According to their sources, it had been built by a race they labelled the Ancients.

A far stretch from the Ancients of his own kind, to be sure. It was simply a word that was the most accurate translation for what his ancestors _were_: the forbearers of many generations of Autobots and Decepticons, before an age when the two factions existed. More accordingly, humans were apparently also a very distant descendant of these organic Ancients, as were the Wraith in some sense. It was a strange way to categorize each species on the battleground of war, when one realized that each one of the new biological sentients they discovered were in some way connected. If there were so many of them, then was it also far-fetched to presume there might be other autonomous mechanicals out there, beyond their explored fraction of space?

One descendant brother devouring the other. Some organic sentients not only warred on their counterparts, but required them for sustenance. On what side could the neutral party stand in a war where both armies had no choice but to fight for their own survival?

This was why Optimus had chosen to aid them, he was sure of it. This was not a trivial squabble over territorial boundaries or power. The Wraith must kill humans in order to sustain themselves, and the humans must fight to live on.

But neither Wraith nor humans had captured Ironhide. There was a party of sentients burrowing into the war from the flanks, driven by a thirst to conquer everything in their path. It was no small wonder why Starscream allied with the Wraith rather than the hybrids. Perhaps the Wraith possessed some secret or advanced technology that captured his interest. That fool was obsessed with one thing and one thing only: power. Anything to augment his own ability to control the galaxy would turn that mechanized pup into a subservient, arrogant lapdog.

The medical officer jolted out of his thoughts when he heard the clash of metal against metal, and turned an optic to the Twins. They had been waiting for Optimus and Major Lennox for nearly half of an hour, which was approximately twenty-five human minutes too long for the pair of youngsters to remain still.

"I only just finished repairing the damage you sustained during the _last_ mission," he berated them sharply, as one fist flew towards the other. "Stop that, both of you. What could you possibly be arguing about now?"

"How come we're bein' stuck way out here?" Skids asked, rather than answering the question. "They either late gettin' here or we bein' punished."

"If I told you that we are awaiting Optimus' orders once the gathering is over, would it silence you?" Ratchet doubted it, but he had a point to make.

"You can't fool us, Rusty. Dey let Trailbaby go back, no' like it was anythin' on their minds. We bein' treated like criminals, know what I'm sayin'?" Mudflap sounded almost angry.

"No," denied the medical officer. "The meeting with the government liaisons will begin soon. Please at least attempt to put on a facade of self-respect, you two. Any small action on our part will affect the manner in which the human leadership views Optimus."

Rambunctious they were, but the twin Autobots knew it was important to keep their leader's name clear. Devoid of common sense in some places, they still had pride for their positions under Optimus' command enough to quiet down and stop sparring. That didn't cease their bickering, of course. It was enough to tolerate for the sake of diplomacy, however one-sided the desire to impress may be.

Ratchet lifted his optics to the spire in the center of the city, and hoped to Primus that all was going well.

* * *

-

Lennox knew it was not going well.

A crew of Atlantis personnel had hastily put together what barely passed as a delegation office inside the 'Puddlejumper' hangar above the city's control room. It was the sole place in the city that Optimus could fit inside and not too far away from the 'gate room in case of emergency. It was the second time the Autobots had visited San Francisco, and the first time had been disastrous for public exposure. After all, after the first time the Autobots fought the Decepticons on the Golden Gate Bridge, it had resulted in NEST being disabled by the government.

Sheer dumb luck, Deception persistence and a friend in a high places put NEST back together, thankfully. But it wasn't a good environment to be in, since the likelihood that Galloway would come all the way out to a stranded alien city to pat his team on the back was slim. According to Sheppard, this IOA that overlooked the Stargate missions wasn't a happy bundle of stuffed animals, either.

The Ancient ships that were once docked inside the large, hexagonal room were gone and someone had even put down a large rug underneath the retracting roof. The roof itself was wide open, and Optimus was already standing nearby in his Peterbilt form. When he walked into the hangar, shouldered by a visibly unperturbed Sheppard, they were met with the stares of three men in suits and one woman. They sat down in the chairs between the oval-shaped desk and the Autobot leader, who took this chance to transform. Since there was no ceremony, or effective way to prepare someone for the bizarreness of a Transformers transformation, it caught the members of the IOA off guard.

True to their natures, they brushed the incident off with stone-like faces and reverted their attention to Lennox and Sheppard. "Welcome," said Galloway, sitting to the far right of the desk with hsi hands clasped together. "I hope you don't mind, major, but considering the urgent nature of Earth's newest predicament, we had to scrape together what we could."

"I like it," said Sheppard. "It's cozier in here without the Jumpers. Could use some hot chocolate, though."

"Since we're all rather well-informed about each other's backgrounds, Autobot company excluded, we won't waste time," a fair-skinned IOA newcomer said. He looked young to be a member of the Advisory, but his thirteen thousand dollar suit was enough to label him as a bureaucrat. "The actions of your team have invoked some concerns with the presidential office and the Joint Chiefs of Staff, as I'm sure you've heard. We called a meeting with just the three of you to see what we can make of the matter."

Sheppard exchanged a look with Lennox, both sharing a mental sigh as the minced words began to flow. "We're all ears," said the colonel, thought for a moment, then added with a jerk of his head towards Optimus, "And...whatever he has."

"Colonel Sheppard, our decision to install you as the commander of the Compound Alliance was a unanimous one," the woman behind the desk pointed out with fake cordiality. "What we'd like to know is if our trust in your abilities was misplaced. With your extensive experience in coordinating Earth's interests with those of alien origin, these past two missions should have succeeded."

"With all due respect, ma'am, our last mission was a success," Lennox said.

"You lost a young lieutenant _and_ a valuable asset to the mission," Galloway attempted to correct him. "As the results stand, the enemy now has a means to acquire information about sensitive military secrets, not to mention details about this...this so-called 'alliance' with your mechanical friends."

So letting the man get whip lashed off the back of a plane might not have been a good plan, thought Lennox. But the moron pulled his own damn cord! This was infuriating.

Optimus didn't speak often when it came to these human interactions, but he did choose now to put a defensive word in. The organics' governmental representatives had a rather two-dimensional grasp on the situation at hand, and his patience clashed with his good nature as he tried to set forth the truth. "If you choose not to place faith in my own comrade's ability to resist interrogation, then I urge you to trust your own. Lieutenant Marshall is a soldier, as is Ironhide. Therefore, your secrets will remain as they are."

Hearing the Autobot leader speak, especially since Optimus had forgotten to tone down his volume, was a visible jolt to the gathered bureaucrats. After a moment, Galloway continued as though he hadn't heard a single word.

"Several parameters of the mission on M9M-100 did not go as they were planned," he pointed out, flipping over one of the pages in the mission report. "It says here that the Autobots responsible for handling the explosive device to be used on the alien ship..._lost_ it?"

If he could have, Sheppard would have groaned. This was not the first time he had to sit here and listen to them point fingers in order to cover their own agendas, and Lennox was an experienced Galloway handler. No matter how they put their response, it would only end up being picked apart and criticized anyway.

"The Twins came under attack outside the cruiser and as far as we know, took the appropriate evasive action," Lennox explained accordingly. "Chances are the C4 device was knocked loose during the assault."

"Once they got on board and found out it was missing, I figured they weren't going to get off that ship alive," Sheppard admitted, trying to push the thought of Optimus standing so close by out of his mind. It wasn't easy to say around the guys' boss. "When it took off, the odds went down even more. The fact that they managed to finish the job without the C4 deserves some recognition."

"Yet when this thought of yours occurred to you and the cruiser began to take flight, you...decided to wait for them anyway?" Galloway glanced down at the papers. "It says here the...'hybrids' only dialled the Stargate device upon launch of their ship. You had ample time to get the rest of your team out of there before you were trapped."

Trying to explain that one would be like talking to a fence, too.

"If the order to retreat through the Stargate was poorly timed, then you may as well put the blame on me," said Optimus. "We would not have abandoned the mission, or our comrades, until we were certain they could not be retrieved."

"Mr. Prime, I admire your dedication to your subordinates, but the facts plainly state that these twin Autobots were responsible for the mission's casualties. As indirect as it may be, in the eyes of the President, they are being held accountable for the supposed death of Lieutenant Marshall and the capture of another Autobot."

"What?" Now Sheppard was irked. He leaned forward in his chair and pointed a finger at himself. "If you're going to blame anyone, _blame_ me. I didn't order my men through the Stargate, because it was the _right_ call at the time. If you want facts, how about the fact that we were vastly outnumbered by an enemy who obviously knew we were coming? And another thing--"

"Colonel, your decisions as the Compound director are not open for scrutiny," the woman behind the desk said blandly. "The carelessness of two members of your own team, happenstance or not, resulted in a serious breach in homeworld security. This _does_ fall on your shoulders as much as it does theirs, but your position makes it irrational for the members of this Advisory to take any apprehensive action at this time. The same goes for Major Lennox, _and_ Optimus Prime."

That stirred up a silence that seemed to have been born in the belly of hostility itself. They might as well have singled out McKay and declared to punish him for forgetting to set his alarm clock. The man _blew up_ three quarters of a solar system and they barely batted an eye back then, so why the heck were they choosing _now—_

The idea of prejudice towards the Autobots hadn't stuck him until this very moment. The colonel examine Lennox's face and it sunk into him at last—at _last—_just how deep this alliance was suppose to be. He'd been so comfortable working side-by-side with the big metal aliens that he hadn't for a moment thought that there would be people who didn't like them just because they were...well, big metal aliens. It was a jolting revelation, and it made him nautious.

Optimus radiated a rare level of disappointment in the well-dressed human company, but wisely kept his broiling comments to himself. Such outbursts would be appropriate for a battlefield, but here they would not only be inappropriate, but wasted on deaf ears.

"The International Oversight Advisory, with the council of National Security Advisor Galloway, has made the decision to remove the twin Autobots from any future off-world excursions. They may either return to Diego Garcia to be put in reserve, or join the other Autobots in terrestrial anti-Decepticon missions, but we cannot count on their recklessness from here on. As for Ironhide..."

"About Ironhide," Lennox cut in. "We were just about to go over some possible tactical operations for the rescue mission, but we got distracted."

Both he and Sheppard had not been given a full night's rest in three days now, which wasn't unusual for men of their calibre. And still, they had their renewed dislike for bureaucrats to thank for the energy to actually show _some_ resistance to their blatant attitude towards their new team.

"Then it's a good thing we summoned you here before you wasted your time," said Galloway. "At this time, we have unauthorized the rescue mission to P2J-934. A task force in the middle of enemy-controlled territory, especially one consisting of all three leaders of the Compound Alliance, simply isn't relevant to the intensifying conflict here on Earth. With Decepticons sprouting up all over the planet on so many continents, we have to assume they're planning on making a pre-emptive strike on one of our military bases. Possibly even on NEST headquarters itself."

"Before I make a regretful decision, Mr. Galloway," Optimus responded slowly, taking a slight step forward. Usually, he could get his point across in a few words. This time, he had many more to say. "I seem to have given you the false impression that I will comply to any of the standards set out before me. An error on my behalf that will be corrected now. I am Optimus Prime, leader of the Autobots. Any outstanding decision made that involves the integrity or welfare of _my_ people has been and will continue to be _my_ decision. If you will not spare the time or resources for Ironhide, then I will."

For a long moment, the effects of the Autobot's speech did not fade from the shocked expressions of the gathered IOA members. Galloway on the other hand, looked rudely disturbed and belittled. Very much the way he looked the last time Optimus had upstaged his attempt to undermine his authority as a leader of an incredibly advanced society of robots.

"Fitting of you to say that," Galloway claimed a moment or two later. "Tell me, _Mr_. Prime, if one of the human members of this 'team' of yours had been abducted by _your_ enemies and taken back to Cybertron...would _you_ go there to rescue him while everyone else actually _prepared_ for a much grander and more serious threat?"

The echo of Optimus' answer seemed to ring before he even spoke. He stooped forward, bending on one knee to lower his face much close to those of the bureaucrats. He spoke evenly, though the one word contained a heavy, reprimanding tone.

"Yes."

With that, Optimus stood back up, and did the next best thing to merely leaving. He _leapt_ out of the Jumper bay through the retracted opening. The sound of a ten ton Autobot landing on the outside of the roof and slowly striding away left trembling remnants through the Ancient structure, and a powerful feeling of pressure in the air.

Sheppard was the first to break the paralysed silence after that, smirking as he folded his arms. "There, see? That wouldn't have happened if there'd been hot chocolate."

* * *

-

TBC


	12. Yours, Mine and Hours

AN: First McKay, now the Twins...poor Lorne. At least he has help.

The error I made uploading the 11th chapter is fixed now. The 10th chapter is back in its full, action-packed glory. Also, rejoice! Update in 2 days! Record. Yes.

* * *

-

_Chapter Twelve: Yours, Mine, and Hours_

_-  
_

"Major Lennox!"

It would have been a relief if he didn't hear Galloway's voice again until after the Transformers civil war was over, but Lennox knew it was hoping for too much. He turned around, backed by a group of waiting Autobots, Sheppard and a few other soldiers who were being transferred along with them. The National Security Advisor jogged along the pier, closely tailed by a handful of secret service agents, secretaries and assistants. Meanwhile, the Compound team departing Atlantis waited outside the loading doors to the cargo plane.

"What is the meaning of this?" Galloway demanded, thrusting a file at the major. "It says here you're sending _three_ of the Autobot forces to Pennsylvania to cover a surveillance operation, subject..._Sam Witwicky_?"

"Don't worry," Sheppard interjected, smiling insincerely at the bureaucrat. "You won't even miss them. Besides, you didn't want the Twins going on any missions. We aim to please."

"Decepticon activity has spiked over the past few weeks in the northeastern states," Lennox added, not even trying to hide his impatience now. "Sideswipe and Salvage were given orders by Optimus to investigate them, even though they're decoys. Megatron wants Sam. We don't think he'll wait until the Wraith arrive to make his move."

"If you believe for a _second_ that that little tantrum your alien friend threw back there is going to make me change my mind about the rescue mission--"

"You already did."

Galloway's outburst sputtered to a halt. "Excuse me?"

"The Compound Alliance is sanctioned and run by a joint coalition between Homeworld Security and NEST," the major explained to him over the fierce wind that whipped around their faces. The ocean air currents stung a little, while the sky overhead was dark and overcast. "We have General O'Neil's okay on the matter, and guess what? I agree."

"But the President--"

"You can get the President to do whatever he wants to do, but I'm afraid we'll be on another planet and a little hard to reach when you get back," said Lennox. "If you leave a message, we'll get back to you as soon as possible."

With that, he and Epps turned away from the Advisor's entourage and joined up with Sheppard as they continued to walk towards the waiting cargo aircraft. Ratchet, who had overheard the exchange, shook his head as they approached. "Strange protocols, you organics practice."

"It's called 'do what's right now, and let the sharks bite you in the ass later'," said Epps with half a grin. Even the prospect of getting dishonourably discharged from the military didn't phase him. The look on Galloway's face was worth a thousand times getting fired.

"Autobots, transform," ordered Optimus, as the air filled with a symphony of moving metal parts. A few seconds later, two Chevrolet cars, a diesel truck and a Hummer H2 drove up the ramp into the interior of the airplane.

Talking over the roar of the engines firing up was next to impossible, but Lennox knew that the Autobot leader would have no problem hearing him anyway. It was a good three hour flight to Georgia and another one and a half to Pennsylvania, where the three younger Autobots would be dropped off to meet up with Bumblebee. Apparently there was a space-faring intergalactic ship at the Compound's disposal, but it was helping out in a war effort against some other alien threat called the Ori. Even if the _Daedalus_ was here, providing them with instantaneous travel across the country, it would give him less time to try and figure out what Optimus was thinking.

"Optimus, are you sure this is the plan you wanna stick with?" the NEST commander asked him, walking up on the parked truck's left side. "You know if Megatron really wants to get his claws on Sam, he'll probably find a way even with four Autobots guarding him. And I know you wouldn't put three of your less experienced soldiers on the front line. What's going on?"

The Twins and Optimus' medical officer had already engaged in a heated argument over...well, whatever it was over, Ratchet was too busy trying to referee to hear them. Sheppard sauntered on, leaving the two figureheads of NEST to converse in a pocket of semi-privacy.

A moment passed before Optimus responded via his speakers. "There is a certainty that the Decepticons will soon be making a move to capture Sam," he reiterated. "With our forces spread out across the surface of the planet, we are at a disadvantage. Megatron is waiting for a chance, a chance that will only arise when I am on another world and unable to come to Sam's aid."

"I see. You're having Bumblebee and the others take him out of harm's way until you can be sure you're on Earth when Megatron attacks. I don't doubt they're able to do it on their own, but you're not taking any risks after Ironhide, are you?"

The red-and-blue truck was silent.

"You, me, Ratchet, Epps, Sheppard, Ronon and McKay," said the NEST commander. "That's all we'll need to get in and out of the hybrid outpost on P2J-934. You've got two teams of veterans out there keeping the Decepticons decoys from getting out of hand. If Megatron thinks he's got a chance getting through to Sam, then he lost a few too many screws in Egypt."

Even tough guys like Optimus second-guessed themselves. Maybe he was hanging around the autonomous machines too much, because he was starting to understand them more and more. Somewhere in the back of his mind, he wondered how Sam Witwicky would react to getting dragged out of classes again and into the middle of the war.

Then again, he never really left it. Everyone here on Earth was part of it; they just didn't know it. Sam, Mikaela and even that Leo kid now were the unlucky kids that did.

On the other end of the large cargo hold, Sheppard was meeting with Teyla and Major Lorne, whom he'd asked to join them after getting the man his security clearance. He expected to see the major, but when Teyla stood up behind him, the colonel did a mental double-take.

"Teyla," he said. "You're...here."

"Yes, John, I am here," she replied, but despite the tone of her voice, didn't smile. "I have come to the decision that, while I cannot go with you to Mich..." She paused, and then went on. "To the hybrid facility, I can still make myself useful accompanying Major Lorne and the Autobots on their mission in...Pennsylvania, was it?"

Sheppard glanced at Lorne and then back to her. "What about Kanan and Torren?"

"They are both doing fine. Kanan has even found a job at a local grocery and enjoys it very much. He has...expressed a desire to see me happy, and knows how I feel about abandoning my duties as a member of the Atlantis expedition."

He let this sink in for a moment, and figured it wouldn't make things go any smoother by turning the plane around and dropping her back at Atlantis. He was happy she was going to go along, actually. Lorne was a great guy and knew how to handle himself when things got sticky, and so did she...but when it came to babysitting the Twins and keeping an eye on an eighteen-year-old college student, he couldn't pick a better agent. That, and she could even give Trailbreaker a hand getting adapted to Earth's customs. His Autobot counterparts were just a little _too_ familiar with human quirks, and the last thing they needed was the new four-ton metal robot picking up habits from them.

A swift thought raced to the strange new Autobot's 'adaptation'. Apparently he'd spent some time in orbit, literally surfing the Internet while he waited for Storm Jet to arrive. He spoke and acted a lot like someone who had lived in New York his whole life, with an even stranger mannerism that reminded him of...well, oddly enough, Abraham Lincoln. Maybe it was the way he looked, or maybe _he'd_ been spending too much time the past week talking to robotic aliens. If the former President of the United States had grown up in the modern Big Apple, Trailbreaker was his personality doppelganger.

Ratchet explained to him before the hybrid mission that Autobots' native language was purely electronic. Most Autobots had adapted the cultural mannerisms of the human region they found most interesting, which explained their wide variety of accents. Ratchet and Optimus had both chosen a more neutral path to communicating with the natives of Earth; apparently, if they appeared to emulate humans too much, they risked giving the impression that they were overzealous.

On the opposite side of the interspecial scales, the Twins couldn't be more zealous. They'd arrived later, though, landing in Toronto of all places. The younger the Autobot, the more fascinated with Earth they tended to be...

...which is why he needed Lorne and Teyla to make sure the group of kids didn't get into trouble. Speaking of Lorne, it occured to him that the major was staring him down.

"Right," said Sheppard, jumping back into reality. "You're probably a little confused."

"A few details wouldn't hurt, sir."

A big grin slowly crept its way across the colonel's face as he put a hand on Lorne's shoulder and walked with him towards the group of transformed Autobots. The military artist was never going to forgive him for this. "Let me introduce you to your new team members, Major. This is Skids, and Mudflap..."

* * *

-

Ironhide sniffed.

Yes, the inside of the alien ship did smell bad. Naturally, before the nonsense with these Wraith and hybrid creatures began, the idea of even a half-organic space vessel would have seemed utterly ludicrous. For his part, he had no idea how long he had spent inside the storage compartment of the annoying noisy Dart contraption, but now he was being detained in the belly of a much larger spacecraft that reeked of flesh, bodily fluids and a type of metallic ore he had never before encountered.

For once, he gave the humans some credibility as a species. Compared to these hybrids that infested the innards of this vessel, they were the preferred company. The first time one of their numbers approached his prison to bewail him with questions, he deeply considered the idea of simply breaking free and escaping. If an insect had crawled across his aft, he might have given it more attention.

He hardly lacked the ability to escape from this plaything they chose to ensnare him in. It would be as simple as punching a hole through the hull of the ship with his cannons and returning to his natural state, before setting a course back to Earth. A previous conversation with Ratchet rattled around his processors, however, about the so-called 'importance' of reconnaissance. If it meant having to listen to the drudgery of these primitive war-like fleshlings for much longer, than so be it.

There were a series of numbing beams holding him still. They permeated from the strange black devices they encircled him with and made it difficult to move any part of his body other than his head. He chose to remain perfectly still in order to provide the hybrids with the entertaining, if ridiculously incorrect impression that they were the ones in charge.

The door across the large chamber hissed open, distracting the Autobot from his boredom-curing fantasy, and approached him without a single trace of fear on his skinny, sickly yellow face. Hmmph, at least some of the humans could be called an attractive specimen, but this creature only further inspired his chronic nature to destroy the overconfident and irritating.

"The time has come to end your insufferable silence, machine," the hybrid scientist informed him. What a noise this was—in his infancy, he must have been dropped on top of several hard surfaces. "Our encounters with your kind have been as numerous as they are tedious. We know you are intelligent enough to provide us with the answers we seek. In goodwill, we have not aspired to simply dismantle you, but you may consider this to be your last chance. What are you? Why have you sided with the Wraith?"

Apparently, they believed he was one of the Decepticons. This was enough to outrage Ironhide to the point of sharply fixating his optics on the small organic. It was the first reaction they had drawn out of him, and it took the remainder of his willpower to not discharge his weapons there and then. They were not aware of the differences between Autobots and Decepticons, then so much the worse for them when they eventually found out.

"Ah, so you do have a weakness, do you?" the hybrid inquired, foolishly stepping closer to the supposedly inanimate robot. "What words were they? Clearly you must not be afraid of our continued threats, so it must be the Wraith that has your attention at last. You cannot be surprised, naturally. Your numbers have already destroyed many of us. You have become allies of both the humans and the Wraith, which has us at a...moral conjunction, to say the least."

Not particularly bright, either. Ironhide snorted down at the would-be inquisitor and finally gave him his answer. "I have a moral code of my own, hybrid. Stand next to my foot and I will give you a display of its complexity."

"It is a shame that you chose those words to be amongst your last," the hybrid responded with insincere sorrow. "The last of your kind to grace use with its unsympathetic presence screamed in a rather fascinating way when we harvested the energy from its core apparatus."

Had Ironhide the veins or blood to run cold, it most certainly would have. His lack of facial expression was also on his side, for not a single servo twitched to betray the surge of anger that overcame him. If the hybrid was not lying, it could have been an Autobot that suffered the raw indignity just pronounced by this yellow-green worm. Harvesting a spark? He would not only tear their ship apart, but roast each and every one of them alive. Slowly.

"You must either be very surprised, or a very good soldier. Or both," the organic went on. "We're grateful for the contribution your life will be to our cause. That is...unless you would prefer instead to have a conversation instead."

"My cannons will do the talking."

The hybrid sighed and turned his back on the Autobot with a sad shake of his head. "A shame. Pray to your mechanical gods, machine. When I return, it will be to extract that unique energy you so selfishly possess."

Ironhide scanned the chamber and took careful note of the density of the walls and temperature, doing so long after his interrogator left. Slag the reconnaissance. If anyone was to have his spark, it would be Prime when he needed it most. When the hybrid returned, he would exact his 'moral code' from one end of their ship to the other.

* * *

-

Sam Witwicky.

The first freshman at Pennsylvania State University to ever be allowed to have a car on campus.

Defender of the Earth.

Boyfriend of Mikaela Barnes.

Failure at Global Politics 101.

Having your mind sucked into an alien cube, turned inside out, and spat back into your skull was good for only some things, apparently. He'd gone from grade one thousand know-it-all to a sad display of humanity who couldn't even remember the names of his own government's cabinet structure. Agriculture, Trade...what?

Sure, he could stare at a page and recite Pi to the ten thousandth decimal...at least, when he could make sense of it, he could. Could he tell the professor who was the Emperor of China in 1732? No, because Sam Witwicky had a brain filled with answers and a bag of 500 milligram Tylenol in his knapsack. To avoid sounding like a whiner, he at least had most of his normalcy intact, on a day to day basis.

As normal as could be, having an alien robot for a car, a girlfriend with a pet Decepticon (right, right, _former_ bad guy), the knowledge of the universe stuck inside his brain and a government ID password he was required to use to contact the CIA three times a week to report anything his mind belched out during the day.

He didn't _have _to, but it was the frickin' CIA! He'd rather go a round with Megatron than piss them off.

Stop thinking about the Autobots. He was writing a test, for crying out loud. It figures, whenever he couldn't concentrate his mind wandered to the Allspark, which made him think about Optimus and the others. There was Bumblebee, who literally waited around most days for him to finish classes before they took off somewhere to do what most college kids do. Leo came with them sometimes, but he still looked panicked every time something came on the radio of the Camaro.

Sometimes, Bee would vanish during the day. He'd done a good job duplicating Sam's image when it came to projecting a holographic driver, but it made Sam nervous. Not only did half the professors on campus now think he was a lazy class skipper, but how long would it take for someone to notice that Sam Witwicky was both _in class_ and driving his Camaro out of the parking lot?

_I could always invent a long-lost twin brother. Mom and Dad would have to play along. Great, now I'm thinking about them_. For the first month after Egypt, he couldn't even go to sleep without having nightmares about the Decepticons abducting his parents again. He'd never admit it, but knowing his embarrassing habit of talking in his sleep? Leo probably knew.

Sighing, he gave up on the last three questions on the test and turned his head to look out the window. Bee was gone from their usual parking spot. Either he had to go somewhere to communicate with Optimus or he went for a drive to cure his boredom. Until Bee, Sam never had to wonder what life would be like, being a car. He hadn't transformed in about three weeks.

Suddenly, the entire class was jolted out of their stupor when there was a sharp rap on the door. Professor Gladly, despite his name and appearance, wasn't a jolly old soul. He got up from behind his desk, growling at the unseen visitor.

Sam couldn't see the person behind the door, but as always, his heart raced a little faster. _Don't let it be a guy in a uniform. Don't let it be a soldier. No one from the CIA, please, please, please..._He willed whoever it was to go away so he could stop panicking.

Instead, Professor Gladly turned around and scrolled over the heads of the students with his narrowed eyes. "Sam Witwicky!"

_Oh, shit..._

Despite his legs turning into Jello, Sam somehow managed to stand up and leave his desk. Leo, sitting behind him, stared at him with mouth slightly agape as he walked out of the classroom. The moment Sam disappeared, he sprung from his seat and made a dash for the door.

"Mr. Spitz!" yelled Professor Gladly angrily.

"Gotta use the bathroom!" he croaked and tumbled into the hallway, where Sam stood in front of a man dressed in jeans and a polo shirt, and a similarly casually dressed woman with deeply tanned skin. "They found us, didn't they?" he burst.

Sam pinched the bridge of his nose. "Oh, God..."

"Sam Witwicky, I assume? My name's Major Lorne, of the...uh, of the United States Air Force, I guess. This is my associate, Teyla. And...who are you?" the man asked, eying Sam's roommate.

"Ah, you must be Leo," Teyla said with a polite nod. "We were told you might...insist on joining us on our journey."

"Journey? What journey? Where are you taking him? Us, I mean us...are we in danger?" The words spilled out of Leo's mouth and made Sam groan with embarrassment.

"No, there's no danger," Major Lorne told them. "We're here as a precaution. We were told to tell you that Bumblebee is waiting for us at the designated rendezvous point, and from there we'll determine our next step."

"Are my parents okay?" Sam blurted, not caring if it sounded juvenile.

"They are." Teyla smiled at him, and it was hard to not believe a smile that warm. "We can explain everything in further detail once we reach the rendezvous point."

A cool surge of relief flooded Sam, but his brain was pounding already. He felt dizzy all of a sudden, and did his best to look unaffected. "Oh, shi...uh, the test! We're doing a test, and--"

"That does not matter right now," said Teyla. "We must be quick and ensure that we leave the school unnoticed."

"I thought you said there was no danger!" Leo again.

"There isn't. We're hoping there won't be any danger at all if we stay inconspicuous," Major Lorne explained. "Trust me, Mr. Witwicky, I'm about as confused as you about this, but I've gotta follow orders. There's a, uh...car outside, waiting." He jerked his head towards the stairs and turned to go, adding with a bit of overwhelmed emphasis, "Literally."

"Please," said Teyla. "It is for your own safety."

Sam looked between the (now closed) classroom door, his normality, and the woman with the intense expression. Here he was, on the brink of jumping out of the safe bubble he'd thought he had, and about to dive into chaos all over again. Just the way he imagined he would be, some day.

He remembered with a sting in his heart what had happened the last time he refused to get involved. _Time to man up and do my part,_ he tried to assure himself, starting forward. A panicked Leo jolted forward to catch up as they, along with Major Lorne and his 'associate' climbed down the spiraling stairs and into the lobby. When Leo caught the first glimpse of bright green through the glass entrance doors, his feet froze to the floor.

"Oh, no," he said. "Not those guys. On second thought, Sam, good luck...I'm going to go stay. My education is important, too."

"Alright," his roommate replied without stopping. He glanced over his shoulder. "Tell Megatron I said 'hi', okay?"

"You suck, you know that?" Leo surged down the last stairs and out the entrance behind Sam and their escorts. "You honestly, really, truly, beyond a doubt are the suckiest roommate in the country!"

It was with a heavy, pounding hear that Sam climbed into the back seat of the green Chevrolet Beat, so distracted that he even forgot to greet the Autobot he hadn't seen in a few months. To him, it was like the day after Egypt, like no time at all had passed. Leo got into the car next to him carefully, as if expecting someone to jump out and grab him.

"_Yo, chia pet! How's it hangin'?"_

Leo slumped forward with a groan, mashing his face against the back of the seat. "I want to die."

"_Be careful what choo wish for, dog, 'cause you gone a lot squishier since last tahm. What choo been eatin', shrimp cake?"_

"Is there anything you wish to take with you from your residence?" asked Teyla, turning her head to glance over the two students. "It may be some time before we return here."

_It might be never before we return here,_ Sam thought. "No," he replied bluntly. "Let's just go already."

Though she did not understand him, Teyla decided that pressing the issue with the young man would not help matters. She nodded to Lorne, though it was unneeded. He was not the driver of the vehicle, and the true driver caught on fast enough to pull forward and out into the street. The first few minutes of the drive were silent.

As were the next few.

No one spoke until they came to their third red light. "Uh, guys," said Leo. "Does anyone else notice the SUV that's been tailing us for the last three blocks?"

"He is a friend," said Teyla reassuringly. "The others are just ahead, at the rendezvous point." After a moment, she sighed. "I am sorry that we had to come on such short notice, Sam. Optimus is apparently quite concerned for your safety, and to be honest, he has good reason to feel as such."

"Look, could you stop the formal talk already?" Sam asked, a little more harshly than he meant to. With an apologetic glance downwards, he echoed her sigh. "Sorry, I mean...it's just irritating, that's all."

Her brow arched a little in amusement. "I'm sorry," she said, gently. "My manner of speaking is...common amongst my people. If it causes you worry, I'll try to speak a little more plainly from now on."

Neither of these people deserved to be targeted by his frustration, Sam knew. Even Leo was a victim of sorts. They were all dragged along by the huge mess with aliens and government conspiracies and the like, just like him. The only difference now was, _they_ weren't the ones with a lot of alien symbols buzzing through his head every few minutes.

And as if on cue, he was stuck by a rush of raw emotion, glyphs and the irrefutable urge to reach out and _destroy_ something. It was over in half a second, but it made him wobble back and forth. Leo gave him a wide-eyed look, which he ignored.

The symbols, of course, he wasn't surprised about. But the emotion...and the strange compulsion after that had never happened before. Now both his heart and his mind were jackhammering. He tried to open his mouth to ask Skids to slow down and let him out, to get some fresh air in his lungs, or a bottle of water...

That was when the SUV behind them smashed into the Autobot. The occupants of the car were thrown forward. Disoriented by the Allspark's assault on his brain, Sam stayed conscious for about two and a half seconds.

And heard the sound of a Decepticon's roaring cannons right before he passed out.

* * *

-

TBC


	13. Blast Away

_**Same Side**_

_**---  
**_

AN: Dear heavens, it's hard to think up these chapter titles. That's it, the next three chapters are going to be called 'Larry', 'Moe', and 'Curly'.

* * *

-

_Chapter Thirteen: Blast Away_

-

It was one of those situations that could have gone very, very bad.

The moment Trailbreaker slammed into the back of Skids, there was a chorus of car horns, people screaming and the loud, garbled Decepticon proclamation in a language that no organic could hlungope to translate. The explosion that sent the communications officer forward also startled him into transforming into his bipedal form. He rolled over the top of the green Autobot and stood in front of him, weapons engaged.

A silvery green flash descended upon him from a rooftop, driving a pair of jagged blades in his direction. Sixshot aimed to impale the unsuspecting Autobot through his spark chamber.

One of Trailbreaker's first defenses, however, was the gold-yellow shield that deployed upon his weapons' activation. This time, the lethal swords struck the crackling energy point blank and stopped the Decepticon in midair. Sixshot dropped out of his dive and landed on Skids' hood, cursing his luck.

Trailbreaker promptly relayed a distress call. It was one of his many talents, and only a handful of known Autobots could replicate his ability to transmit messages over such large distances. It was an encrypted signal that no Decepticon would ever decipher, due to their nature. At this moment, he was just hoping Bumblebee and Mudflap would be close enough to get here before this psychotic killing machine made tin cans out of him.

Their cover was blown, and the humans were quickly abandoning their cars to escape on foot. It was hard trying to find a spot to move when he had to worry about stepping on one of the organic natives, but he had inspected the visual entertainment recordings from orbit long enough to feel sympathetic to their plights. Dawn and Marcus from the region of All My Children had it especially rough without having to worry about a big metal foot coming out of nowhere and squishing them.

Sixshot lunged at him. The blue Autobot swiftly knocked him aside with his shield and opened fire on the Decepticon before he hit the ground. The silvery assassin tried another approach, twisted in midair and pounced off the wall of a human building. He crashed into the side of the transformed green one, sending the Autobot rolling over (and subsequently crushing) the human vehicles in the opposite lane.

Sixshot was seized from behind before he could leap towards the incapacitated Autobot, and found his body soaring through the air. Again, he regained his equilibrium and landed on both feet. Trailbreaker began to fire on him again, lacking the means to fight an effective melee battle.

Lorne just barely opened the door and felt on the street beside the overturned Twin, as a bruised and battered Teyla did the same. Both of the kids were unconscious in the backseat. Reaching through the open door next to Sam, the major pulled his charge out of the robot's interior. Leo was removed by his teammate and they tried to drag the pair of bodies towards a nearby alleyway for the best protection against their much larger enemy.

Groaning, Skids transformed without even getting up, climbing to his feet only when they had fully formed. There was a distinctly pissed-off feeling this whole thing gave him, and Sixshot was one dumbass Decepticon for picking it again on planet Earth.

Trailbreaker was effectively keeping Sixshot at bay, parrying the smaller Decepticon's lunges with a well-aimed swing of his shield, but his energy capacity wasn't meant to fend off one physical blow after another. It became harder to maintain his barrier over time, and none of the shells that actually landed on his enemy seemed to do any damage.

"You are finished, pathetic weakling!" The Decepticon hurled the boast in a screech and prepared his expansive array of soft-clicking weaponry to rip the Autobot apart.

It was then the massive red jet dove out of the sky, miraculously banked on a ninety-degree angle and swooped down on Sixshot. Storm Jet shifted his form several feet above and behind the Decepticon's back. While still in motion, he drove his arms, now transformed into a single, four-edged blade through the assassin's spark. Sixhshot convulsed for a second or two, his eyes flashed, and then went dead.

Storm Jet crashed to the ground on both feet as his foe perished. With on swift motion, he altered his hands back into their five-digit form and tossed the lifeless carcass of the Decepticon on the abandoned street. With a satisfying equivalent to a grunt, he turned around to face the startled blue Autobot. "It is a damned good thing I happened to be nearby, isn't it, Trailbreaker?"

"You?" The communications' officer stood down incredulously. "Of all Autobots, I get you? I had enough of traveling with your tight-aft attitude, Stormy. Go rescue someone else."

"Now, now, you shouldn't feel ashamed of your incapacity to dispatch such a ridiculous opponent. It is only natural," the much larger red one replied, scanning over Lorne and his group nearby. "I see. Defending the weak and defenseless, are we? Was this Prime's plan?"

"Hey, just 'cause you can't take orders from Optimus Prime," Trailbreaker retorted, and seemed to realize that they were still standing in the middle of a public city with several brave spectators looking on. "Uh oh. We'd better split before someone puts us on YouTube."

"Very well. Meet me at your rendezvous point, and bring the humans." Without another word, the crimson Autobot lashed out with one hand to seize the discarded corpse of the Decepticon, half-shifted into his aerial form and took off into the atmosphere, leaving behind a cloud of dust and the glimmer of glowing jets against the overcast sky.

Almost sheepishly, Trailbreaker changed back into his SUV guise with the dozens of citizens watching his every move. Skids turned around, noticed the spot where Lorne and Teyla were protecting the boys, and offered his services as a transport by transforming back. No one saw the group of four humans climb into the Chevrolet Beat amidst the thick overlay of dust, nor did they notice the pair of vehicles turning the corner at the stilled intersection, weaving between empty cars and trucks until they blended back into the stream of moving traffic nearby.

Teyla sat in the backseat with the students, dabbing at a bleeding gash on Leo's head. Neither of them had taken serious injury, though she had a distinct feeling that the case would be different had they been inside a normal car. It worried her that Sam seemed to be running a fever, since no infection could have set in so quickly. Perhaps he had been ill before they picked him up at the university.

"Major Lorne, if it is possible that more than one of these Decepticons have found our location, there may be more not far behind. Should we not try to contact Colonel Sheppard and the others?"

The major, still taken aback by the sudden assault by the strange alien entity, shook his head to indicate he didn't know. "Something tells me that Optimus guy knew about this, so there would be no point. We should take them straight to the designated safe zone and wait for evac."

It wasn't so much of a rendezvous point as it was an abandoned gas station on the outskirts of the city. The station was on a side road that predated the highway leading into New Jersey, far enough away from most traffic to make it easier to spot an oncoming attack from the Decepticons. Once they were far enough away, the plan had been to wait for a military transport to take Sam away and to the nearest Air Force base, which was in West Virginia. Except now, their quiet extraction had been blown to smithereens. The moment they got out in the open, they might very well get ambushed by the enemy Cybertronians, despite their powerful air support from above.

He had to stop doing favours for Colonel Sheppard.

Despite his convictions, they weren't followed or ambushed when they reached the city limits. Not a fifteen minute lapse later, and they met up with Mudflap, who had been connected to his twin from the start of the skirmish and came to help. He did an illegal u-turn across the unpaved median and joined up with the group at the back. After they reached the backroad, it wasn't long until the deserted gas station came into view.

The fact that both Storm Jet and Bumblebee were standing behind the ghostly building in their terrestrial forms was the first indication that something was wrong. Storm Jet's only alternative mode was his Cybertronian jet, of course, but the yellow Autobot had his pulsing cannon loaded and aimed at the larger bot. Skids, Mudflap and Trailbreaker came to a sliding halt in the tufts of half-dead grass and the two conscious humans leapt out of the car just as Trailbreaker went to investigate the problem.

"'Ey, Bumblebee! When will you ever learn to stop picking fights with the big guns?" the communications officer chided his long-time friend, interrupting the scene. Instantly, the yellow Autobot stood down and looked Trailbreaker with evident surprise. Even after hearing the news from Optimus, seeing Trailbreaker in one piece after the ambush on Cybertron was astounding.

"_The dead roam the Earth!"_ cried a geeky voice over his radio and, forgetting all about Storm Jet, Bumblebee clapped a metal hand to one belonging to his teammate, nodding enthusiastically.

"Your timing is impeccable, chatty one," Storm Jet remarked placidly. He noted the presence of the four humans inside the green Twin's interior with approval. "This protogé of Prime's was not inclined to believe my tale until he saw the sparkling for himself."

Sam groaned, stirring back to life as if on cue. Bumblebee's attention snapped to him at the sound of his charge's voice and went to him in a flash. Rubbing his head, Sam climbed out of Skids' back seat and found himself face-to-face with the young Autobot he'd been so worried about until now. "Geez, Bee...what's going on?"

Of course, his guardian lacked the ability to explain due to the shortage of radio transmissions that included large robotic aliens and classified civilian extraction protocols. Instead, he offered Sam a massive hand to steady himself on, and the eighteen-year-old swaggered out into the dulled light, finding even that too harsh for his pounding head.

"I'd say introductions are in order," Major Lorne spoke up, standing in front of the still transformed Twins. "But you probably know more about me than I do. Our job is over, for the most part..." He glanced around at the surrounding Autobots. "...doesn't look like we'll be needed. Air evac should arrive within an hour."

"I am afraid they will not," Storm Jet interjected with his overpowering voice. "If I managed to decipher the incoherent military-grade babble over what you seem to think is a secure frequency, then your aerial support was shot down and decimated by a pair of Megatron's bumbling lackeys not too long ago. That was what attracted me here in the first place."

"So...wait, what does that mean? We can't get out of here?" Sam couldn't help but feel anxious. After the incident inside the city, not only were local authorities probably scouring every inch inside and outside of the city, but they were exposed to a _lot_ of Decepticons.

"That means, young misinformed sparkling, that your own military cannot handle a simple rescue operation," remarked the older Autobot, the lights on either side of his face guard flashing upwards. "Now, there is a gorge several miles in geographical proportions precisely sixty-eight miles south of this location. Find a suitable cave, and the natural rock formations will prevent even the most advanced surveillance drones from locating your biological signature. Your military may feel so inclined to send more 'air support', but I have my doubts they will survive long enough to reach you."

"Wait, a cave?" Sam pinched the bridge of his nose and leaned heavily on Bee for support. "We're hiding in caves now? Hold on a sec...who are you, anyway?"

"Does it matter, honestly?" Storm Jet replied bitterly. "I am the one Autobot within a thousand miles capable of keeping you alive, fleshling. Leave him to me, Trailbreaker. I will be able to transport him to a safe location faster than your landlocked modes ever will."

Bumblebee looked up at him sharply. Storm Jet outranked them all, but there was no way Sam was going anywhere without him. He was his guardian, after all. Trailbreaker had the same idea, apparently.

"Look, Stormy, we've got our orders and they're from Prime himself, so we can't just go galavanting wherever you want. We do this, we do it together, capiche?"

Storm Jet looked over the smaller blue bot with a crippling flash of his eyes, as one of his cooling servos released a hiss that correctly reflected his irritation. "If you insist," he said slowly. "Then I will lead you, and monitor this pilgrimage from the sky, but on one condition. It is a personal request."

"What got stuck up yo aft?" Mudflap asked, now standing by in his bipedal form.

The smaller infiltrator went ignored. "My interest is in preserving the knowledge imbued by the Allspark, not making new friends," Storm Jet growled. "These other humans are superfluous and untrustworthy. They will stay behind."

"You hit your head on a rock when you came to Earth? Because you're not listenin'," Trailbreaker told him bluntly. "Scram your condition."

"You will take the boy to the gorge and I will keep the Decepticons at bay." It was clear the larger Autobot was becoming angry. "Should you prefer to stand by and allow them to convene on this location, slaughtering the lot of you, then so be it! Megatron will stop at nothing to get his hands on that child. Did you all inherit the stubbornness of that fool you call a Prime?"

"Listen, guys," Lorne interjected before the argument could get out of hand. "No one can argue that having him on your side is a lot more useful than having us. Though it kinda hits my ego a little hard. We don't have any conventional weapons, so even if your enemies did show up, we can't defend ourselves. Teyla and I will stay behind and wait for ground reinforcements, and we'll tell them where you're hiding out."

"Is this a wise plan, Major Lorne?" Teyla asked out of suspicion.

"Trust me, Teyla. Look at them. Colonel Sheppard will probably give me an earful, but we're useless against these Decepticons. Let them take care of it, at least until we get our hands on some weapons."

There was no doubt that Major Lorne's behaviour was uncharacteristically odd, but Teyla knew better than to call him on it right there and then. She gave a conceding nod and inhaled slightly. "The major is correct," she said. "We will stay behind to await our transport."

"You're kidding, right?" Sam looked between the two. "What, you're leaving us?"

"A wise choice," Storm Jet said loudly enough to break the teen's train of thought. "I will transmit directions to the point of arrival from my lookout. And for the sake of Primus, do not loiter."

The air was momentarily choked with sand as the crimson Autobot shot skywards, transforming as he did so. No one said anything for roughly thirty seconds.

"I'm going to get in contact with the Compoud Alliance crew," Lorne announced. He glanced over at Teyla and turned towards the empty gas station, taking a radio out of the small backpack he'd rescued from Skids' back seat. "If Colonel Sheppard is back, I'll apprise him of the situation. Until then, it's up to you guys. Take care of this kids."

"Tha's right, you quit like it's gettin' hot, wimp," Mudflap babbled after him, waving a dismissive metal hand.

For once, Teyla was utterly astounded. Unable to find something to say to the Autobots or the two young students, she inhaled deeply and chased after Major Lorne. He was talking into the radio as she drew near, several dozen paces from the nearest set of ears...or audio receptors. She kept her voice hushed, though unsure of whether or not the Autobots could hear her. In a way, it did not matter.

"Major Lorne, you cannot seriously intend to abandon the mission," she said harshly. "Do you expect this...this Storm Jet to effectively protect Sam and Leo when he so clearly does not like humans?"

"No," he said in return, clicking a few buttons on the device in his hand, as though he had never seen it before. "I expect he's hiding something really important from us and quite frankly, I trust him about as far as I can throw him. I don't need to tell you how far that is."

"Then what are you doing?"

"Getting a message to the Compound or Atlantis any way I can. Thing is, something's jamming our radios. I wouldn't put it past those Decepticons, but one way or another we have to tell the others where they're taking the kids."

"Would it not be more reasonable to try and _stop_ them from doing so?"

He paused long enough to give her a look. "I'm sorry, did you have a plan to stop the twenty foot tall scary giant robot from doing what he wants?"

The Athosian's sigh was enough of an answer, since there really wasn't a better answer to a question that plain. "I thought so," he added. "We're no help to them anyway. I know you want to do something, but we need to talk to Sheppard. The Daedalus is supposed to be in orbit within five or six hours, so we might be able to stall them long enough to get them to beam Sam and Leo on board."

They became aware of the now familiar sounds of transforming Autobots and the screech of wheels against worn dirt and pavement. Together, they spun around just in time to witness four different coloured vehicles speeding away from the abandoned yard and onto the old highway. Lorne charged after them, shouting in vain at them to stop, but they were specks on a gray line within just a handful of seconds.

He was still huffing a little when Teyla jogged up next to him. Shielding his eyes against the sun, the major looked at the rapidly disappearing robotic kidnappers and said, "Or not."

* * *

-

Another Autobot might have enjoyed the silence on board his captor's ship, but Ironhide was not having fun. Nor was he enjoying the solitude of being in a prison with a smell so horrible he considered inflicting damage on his olfactory system in order to end the misery. Still, the ship _was_ quiet, which was by far a better fate than it being too noisy. The last thing he could stand was an annoying buzz in his circuits.

More hours passed than he consciously remembered, though he checked now and then to find out that barely a day had passed since he had been brought here. He had no shortage of Energon, though a week or so of idleness might endanger his chances of escape. Naturally, he didn't plan on being here anywhere near that long. He would be fortunate to stand another ten five minute cycles. In his own fashion, he wondered the identity of the Cybertronian whom the hybrids had allegedly 'harvested', and continued to aimless shove aside the possibility that someone else had been captured online. If he had not been the only Autobot to be abducted by those ridiculous contraptions...

Ratchet, Skids, Mudflap, Trailbreaker. Of those four, perhaps Ratchet may have had the capacity to escape on his own. But the other three, two barely old enough to dodge the odd 'sparkling' remark and the third too careless and focussed on relaying high, low and even subspecial frequencies to act by himself. No, no, Trailbreaker would use those same skills of his to scan for and contact him once he was taken out of stasis. If he _had_ been taken out.

Ironhide's emotional core broiled for a moment. Treating them equipment to be splayed out, carved into and drained of their very own sparks...Wraith aside, these half-bred creatures from the exhaust vents of the universe would not survive the next hour. Not a single one of them.

At last, the door to his would-be prison cell opened again and the same hybrid interrogator stepped through with a satisfied look on his face. Ironhide observed as he was trailed by two more of his kind, each bearing some strange contraption, and yet a third hybrid approached him with an energy-based projectile weapon in his hands. The weapons' specialist stared at them all with cold calculation.

"I am afraid the time has come for us to say our farewells," the hybrid scientist announced with an arrogant smirk. "I look forward to the sound you make as we extract your magnificent energy."

"You like sounds, do you?" Ironhide questioned, tightening his fists into literal sledgehammers. The hybrid's eyes flickered towards them, glinting with horror. "Allow me to entertain you."

With loud, violent snapping, the large black Autobot wrenched his arms free of the incapacitating blue beams and threw his weight forward. One of his feet came smashing down on top of a beam emitter. He destroyed the other three simply by knocking them on the ground, shaking off the tingling feeling in his servos as they hummed back to life. The armed hybrid near the back of their group began to fire on him frantically, but the weapon was the size of a toothpick comparatively, and the blue charges did little against his armoured plating. As the others dropped their strange contraptions and bolted for the door, Ironhide calmly lifted and armed his right cannon and blasted the floor out from under them. Only half of the two hybrids made it to their destination. This left his old friend, the interrogator.

"You will not escape this facility," the scientist told him, just as fearless as he had been during the Autobot's 'captivity'. "You may kill three, four, or forty of us and the results will end the same. We will see Earth in ruins! And we will harvest every last one of your lives to further empower our great empire!"

Ironhide pointed his cannon point blank in the creature's face. "It is a shame you chose those words to be amongst your last." He fired.

The large hangar door had been left wide open, exposing him to the even larger chamber beyond. Never being the greatest of navigators in foreign territory, the specialist made the quick decision to simply destroy anything that moved or looked threatening until he found an exit or an airlock. That was a sound plan. He sniffed the air, disregarding the unbearable odor and determined that there were no air currents in the vicinity. Being a vessel fit for the vacuum of space, this came as no surprise. With a sweep of his optics, he began to search for something suitable to blow up.

Unlike his personal 'quarters', this outside chamber was easily ten or fifteen times its size with notable ledges lined up in uneven increments vertically along the wall. There was a center pedestal possibly have his height and a circular platform around that. Around that platform was a pit, one that stretched so far down his sensors would not measure it at a glance. Rather than staring at the abyss, Ironhide decided to target the wall to his left, where many of the small, dart-like spacecraft were being stored. He locked onto the jagged, jutting structures with _both_ cannons and began to meticulously and thoroughly destroy each and every one.

The blasts caused the entire ship to rumble under his feet. Massive chunks of strange half-organic hull cascaded down, bouncing off each other and breaking apart as they were swallowed by the pit. Ironhide did not stop, firing left, right, ninety-four degrees from his central position, and every other direction he spotted the ugly shapes of the alien vessels. He had figured these hybrids would have a few amongst them brave enough to come along and fight back, as the humans would. Sadly, he would have to simply make due with tearing the place apart around them.

By the time his cannons overheated and needed a brief cooling cycle, nothing remained of the large chamber but glowing scars and smoke. Through the hazy veil, he perceived something he overlooked before—a door on the opposite side of the center platform, identical to the one behind him. A surge of anger crept into the nodules of his logic system. With large strides, he kicked some of the debris off of the bridge as he crossed over to the other side. He made quick work of the door with his hands; it crumpled like a foil made of tin and the Autobot stormed into the hangar.

Proof of the dead hybrid scientist's claim lay in a heap in the middle of the barren floor. A jolt shot through his systems when he realized that the offline Cybertronian was dark, midnight blue with bright silver markings and he feared for an instant that he had been incorrect about Trailbreaker. The fear was soon eased when he stepped forward, and his gaze landed on the symbol etched into what used to be an arm: Decepticon. Ironhide spat some weak lubricating liquid on the ground, and turned his back on what remained of his enemy.

_Ironhide. Respond._

Optimus? It was not possible. Their leader was on Earth, coordinating an appropriate attack on the Decepticons threatening the planet's destruction, not coming after him like he was some lost, defenseless sparkling. He sent a brief data burst to confirm both his location and his identity, and was both surprised and mildly outraged when he got his response.

_It makes me happy to know you are alive, my friend. We are on our way to aid you in your escape._

Even in their own language, Prime knew how to choose his words carefully. To indicate the he needed _rescuing_ would be a severe blow to his rank and ability. Now he would have to share his much anticipated annihilation of this miserable excuse for a spaceship.

_You always had a terrible sense of timing, Optimus,_ he sent back, and because of the limited emotional rage there was no way his commander could detect the disappointment in the message. _Are we in orbit, or am I still recharging?_

_The alien ship is on the surface of a planet not far from the Stargate. It will not belong before we reach you._

'Not long' was long enough to do a few more things. Rightfully destructive things. Ironhide began to charge his now-cooled cannons, preparing for an explosive storm.

_Ironhide, I hope you aren't planning on destroying anything that may set off the ship's self-destruct mechanism._

His weapons whined as they powered down. Optimus ruined the fun in everything.

* * *

-

TBC


	14. Road Tripping

_**Same Side**_

_**---  
**_

AN: Geographically, the gorge I'm referring to in his chapter is actually in West Virginia, but it was the only one I can think of that works for plot devices.

* * *

_Chapter Fifteen: Road Tripping_

_

* * *

  
_

Sheppard picked pieces of Wraith dust out of his hair. They came from the exploding cruiser just a hundred meters in front of him, a phenomenon he only got to experience because Ironhide wanted to blast a door big enough for him to fit through in the wall of the ship. The hybrid vessel wasn't completely wrecked, but with a hole the size of three Optimus Primes put together in their hull, he doubted it would get off the ground any time soon.

Point was, the hybrids were down to one cruiser. The Wraith were practically in Earth orbit and there were Decepticons lurking everywhere. To top it all off, McKay was whining at him.

"I didn't just _lose_ it, Sheppard!" the scientist was telling him, three and a half minutes after he stepped through the gate and returned to the Compound. "One minute I was finishing up the stabilization program for the Stargate, and the _instant_ I returned to my lab, I realized it was gone! The notes, the research, my laptop, the prototypes, all gone!"

"First of all, Rodney," the colonel said, turning around with one arm aroud his P90. "It's not your lab, it's _the_ lab. And second of all, don't you have backups somewhere? I'd find it hard to believe you of all people forgot to make a second copy."

"A backup?" McKay snapped. "Of a _prototype_? Of my laptop? I'm sorry, John, but I haven't exactly gotten around to inventing a machine that clones things!"

"Fine. Did you ask the other scientists nicely if they'd seen them?"

"Why on Earth would they take my research? Other than to copy my brilliant idea, which isn't a complete surprise, but the answer is 'yes'. Yes, I asked them. As much as it pains me to say, it's like it just got up, and walked away on its own."

Sheppard sighed heavily, wanting for the world to just get out of his uniform and curl up with _War and Peace_ in the solitude of his bunker. "Can't you just start over with a new one?"

"Ugh..." McKay pinched the bridge of his nose and held up a hand. "You know what? Never mind. This is my fault for actually thinking you'd understand the seriousness of this problem. If the Wraith, the hybrids, or heaven forbid the Decepticons get their hands on this technology, we're all screwed. Imagine if you will, having a robot the size of _him_," he said, extending a hand toward the transformed Ironhide, who was currently being examine by Ratchet. "Now imagine that robot being just as deadly, nearly indestructible, _and_ against us."

This perked Sheppard's imagination, and his 'oh, shit' instinct. Soldier mode switched on and he narrowed his eyes at Rodney. "Are you telling me there's a chance the _Decepticons_ got a hold of your research?"

"Yes! Yes, that is exactly what I'm saying!" McKay cried, drawing a lot of strange looks from the personnel milling about. "We need to search the entire compound, top to bottom. If we can't find it, then the next time these guys face a Decepticon, chances are they're not coming back."

"Wait, wait, you said this thing was a prototype," said the colonel, struggling to absorb the situation. "It only fits one Autobot right now, and last time I checked it won't work with any other robot."

"Oh yeah, like _that's_ going to stop a bunch of psychotic super-advanced killing machines from figuring out how to overcome a few encryption codes." It was Rodney's turn to sigh, and honestly he did have quite a lot to worry about, his career being the least of them. "I really, really hope a jealous colleague took it. At this point, anything's better than that scenario."

"I can see how this would become a problem," Ironhide spoke up, his presence snatching both of their attention. Considering he had just arrived from captivity in enemy hands, the large Autobot didn't even seem phased in the slightest. "No doubt Megatron's doing, sending in his infiltration drones to acquire military grade information on your assets."

"Isn't that quaint, because as I remember it, you were the one who called _my_ invention a toy," McKay snapped.

"It is rather toy-like," the black Transformer said with a rather nonplussed shrug. "But in the hands of a Decepticon, it is an annoying toy."

"And they call _me_ arrogant." McKay looked at Sheppard for support, but the colonel just imitated Ironhide's shrug and smirked.

"I'm going to take a shower, and then I'm going to eat something." The co-leader of the Compound Alliance handed his P90 over to a waiting lieutenant and loosened his vest, silently relishing the thought of a little peace and quiet. When this whole thing was over and done with, he was going to take a short vacation on one of the abandoned piers of Atlantis with nothing but his book, a mini fridge of beer, and a T.V.

"Sheppard!"

His fantasy vacation burst into a cloud of dream vapour. Closing his eyes to steel himself against a brand new crisis, the colonel turned around to face Lennox, who was walking briskly towards him. There were three armed soldiers behind him, and Epps, who appeared a lot more grave than usual. "Yes, Major?"

"A garbled message just came through from the east coast," came the explanation. "Major Lorne and Teyla just informed us that Sam Witwicky and the rest of his Autobot escort just left their rendezvous point and are heading due south to a supposed gorge in state."

"What?" Sheppard squinted his eyes. "On who's authority?"

"Storm Jet," Optimus answered darkly, before the NEST commander had a chance to speak. The towering Autobot turned to face the assembled humans. "Trailbreaker has just sent me an update on their situation. Apparently, there are more Decepticons in that area than I anticipated. We must go after them."

"Can't you just tell him to stop?" asked Sheppard.

Optimus shook his head once, more out of habit than intentional emulation of human body language. "No," he said. "Trailbreaker's specialty is relaying long-distance communications. I would be unable to transmit a message to him without an amplifier."

"Alright, what happened the the air evac we sent to the rendezvous point?" Sheppard pointed at one of the technicians standing by, who simply shook his head sadly and went back to his tasks. "Dammit. What the hell do these guys want with one kid?"

"You know, it's a long story, and we can share it on the flight to the airbase in Pennsylvania," Major Lennox said. "A gorge that close to the state university can only be Smoke Hole Canyon. My grandfather used to tell me old Indian tales about that place when I was a kid."

"That's a place to start. Any idea why Storm Jet would lead your entourage into a gorge, Optimus?"

"As rudimentary as it may seem, he intends to keep Sam safe inside the many rock formations this canyon has to offer," the leader of the Autobots replied. "Megatron also has many surveillance drones at his disposal. What he does not know, is that Starscream will definitely go as far as causing the gorge to crumble around them if they cannot capture Sam alive."

"And there are a few local towns that'll get caught in the landslide if that happens," Lennox finished. "Meaning we don't have a lot of time. Epps, organize an anti-Decepticon squad, two units, two medics, some double cheeseburgers and a tank."

"Yes, sir," his second in command said, signalling to the others in his group. "He was kidding about the tank," he explained to one of the newer recruits, slapping him on the shoulder before turning to leave.

"Rodney," said Sheppard, attracting the sour attention of the astrophysicist. "When Ronon gets back from his meeting with the IOA, tell him exactly what you just heard. Got it?"

"Yep. When Ronon gets back, be sure to tell him just how _screwed_ we are." McKay leaned over the computer he was frantically typing at, probably rifling through the security footage for the thousandth time that day. As long as he got the message, Sheppard was happy. Leave it to Rodney to do things his way, and he would get the job done one way or another.

"Flight prep will be over in ten," Lennox told Optimus as he walked past his enormous ankle. "No time to lose, big guy, we've got a ton of lives on the line."

"Autobots," Optimus agreed, addressing both Ratchet and Ironhide, who was evidentally thrilled at the idea of chasing down Decepticons. "Roll out."

* * *

-

The only thing worse than having someone in the back seat asking "Are we there yet?" a half dozen times an hour was having Leo in the back seat with a green tinge to his face.

"_Ey, Leo, you blow some of those gross chunks in ma interior domain, you gonna taste some rocky road real soon. I ain't talkin' 'bout no ice cream, either."_

"Please, someone shut him up," groaned a distraught Leo, trying to not hurl on the floor of the moving transformed Autobot. Seeing as Sam was the only one with him at the time, his addressee was no mystery. "Oh, God, I feel sick."

"That's what happens when you eat three chilli dogs for lunch," Sam told him impatiently. "If you'd listen to me a little more often, you'd feel fine right now."

"How was I supposed to know your crazy robot friends would come out of nowhere and kidnap us? I should be sitting down in class, peacefully digesting in a movement-free environment."

It was his sentence that led into another lapse in conversation. Sixty-eight miles was not a long way to drive for regular vehicles, let alone a group of Autobots, so the ride itself was not destined to take forever. To Sam, however, it might as well have been an eternity, half of which his spent staring at Bumblebee's rear window and trying to sort the strange feeling in his head into words that made sense. An hour ago he had been worrying about the answers to questions fifty-two and fifty-three on his test, and suddenly he had to run away from the normal world, just to make sure he could stay alive long enough to tell his kids one day about his strange encounter.

Above all, he was tired. Staying one step ahead of the Allspark's leftover remnants in his mind was a never-ending relay race, but with one runner and no points. It had gotten easier since finding the Matrix and reviving Optimus, but just because it had been dormant all that time didn't mean it wasn't coming back.

Whoever this Storm Jet was, he hoped Optimus trusted him. He honestly didn't know Trailbreaker, the Twins fought too much to really understand what they were thinking, and Bee wasn't into expressing opinions about other Autobots. At least Storm Jet struck him as an old, old veteran sort of guy, like Jetfire had been before he died. If he was even half of what Jetfire was, the idea of following him to the edge of the state wasn't so ludicrous. Almost sane, actually.

"Man, how could the just leave like that?" Leo asked out of nowhere. Sam looked at him. "You know, those guys, the military dude and the weird lady that came to abduct us? Isn't there some government rule or something that's supposed to prevent that stuff from happening?"

For a long, long moment the young Witwicky just stared at him with partially squinted eyes. Finally, he said, "What the hell is wrong with you?"

"I don't know," Leo moaned, flopping onto his side. "I just want to get outside and get some fresh air...or I'm gonna spew, seriously."

"You could have stayed behind. I'm the one he wants to play caveman, remember?" Sam moved his eyes to stare out the side window at the trees that sped by. Alpha, beta, gamma, delta, epsilon, each one had a name in his head in several languages he did recognize and a lot that he didn't. _Now_ he was losing his mind, but when he was trying to write a simple calculus test, this thing didn't even bother whispering any answers in his ear. They worked for his SATs, but apparently he had to get through college on his own. It's not as if his parents were paying forty grand a year to send him there. Who cared if he passed his classes without getting dragged into the middle of a galactic war every couple of months?

He didn't even realize that the procession of Autobots had turned off the main road and were climbing up a steep, single lane path that led into Smoke Hole Canyon's middle ranges. He had four Autobots—five including Storm Jet—and the promise of safety, but when he saw the enormous, flat walls of the gorge and trails that snaked around the gigantic trench, his courage collapsed on itself. If anything, this place of solid gray pitfalls was a death trap, and _not_ a sanctuary. Sure, he had seen this place from the air when he flew into Pennsylvania with his parents, but from down here the obvious danger was, well...more obvious.

"Whoa, whoa, is this it?" Sam leaned forward approximately thirty seconds later, as Skids rolled to a halt behind and Bumblebee. At the front of the line, Trailbreaker had already peeled away and begun to change shape, standing up in his bipedal form. Their final destination? A ledge, probably wide enough for them all to stand shoulder-to-shoulder, overlooking a four hundred foot drop onto a dead river and jagged rocks.

Leo and Sam got out of their transport, both mesmerized by the scenery for a few moments of panic. Other than the fact that it was deserted, there was nothing particularly special about the ledge. To the north, the dirt trail continued up the side of the gorge for several miles maybe, but there were no caves in sight, and no Storm Jet.

The Twins and Bumblebee concurred that it was safe to transform into their natural shapes and did as much, the echo of this task comitting dully over the expansive canyon. The younger Autobots exchanged glances as Trailbreaker looked at the view with a few puzzled twists of his head.

"That's weird. His Grumpiness should have got here long before we did," the blue Autobot explained, swinging around to face his teammates.

"A'ight, my bet is da Decepticons punked his aft by now," Mudflap said. He sounded almost cheerful about it.

"Really? Autobots should never gamble. They are terrible at proving themselves lucky!"

The intrusive voice preceded the sudden explosion of rock pellets not thirty feet up the canyon trail. Two metallic shapes came sliding down the vertical wall that towered above them, landing heavily on the ledge. Both Decepticons, one an unusually bright orange and black with abnormally oversized fists and the silvery brown one were almost identical, with the exception that the second one was slightly smaller.

"An ambush!" Trailbreaker roared, activating his weapons and his barriers, while simultaneously broadcasting an emergency message to Optimus himself. The twin Autobots and Bumblebee immediately took up a defensive position around Sam and Leo.

Their Decepticon visitors did not move, however. The first one, Gamble, was staring Trailbreaker down and remaining as silent as his brother, Sharpshot. They were waiting for something, and that something came a moment later.

A crimson-coloured jet came hovering down from the overcast sky, gracefully lingering a few dozen feet above the ledge before shapeshifting into Storm Jet and touching down. His much larger body blocked the narrow trail that led back down to the safety of the gorge bottom. What should have been relief turned to stone cold dread in Sam's chest as it became clear what sort of trap it was they had stepped into.

"I commend you all for helping me finish what Megatron has started," said the red one, as the remaining parts on his shoulders and arm folded and shrunk to complete his transformation. "Without you, I doubt I could have proved my worth to him any other way."

"No, no," Sam said, though his weaker voice could barely be heard. "No, this can't be happening. It can't be that easy."

But Storm Jet did hear him. "Easy? Hardly the word I would use to describe my plan. I have waited millennia for a chance such as this. No, fleshling. The easy part is just beginning."

"So you wanna fight me now, Snowstorm?" Trailbreaker made an impolite gesture too explicit for words to describe, the heated-round railguns on his forearms starting to spin slowly in anticipation. "And I thought we used to be friends. I think age has got your cognitive processors malfunctioning, because it sounds to me like you've joined the enemy."

The former Autobot replied by charging up his beam guns and firing off a single round. The concussive force flashed against Trailbreaker's dome-like shield, sending him reeling back a step or two.

"Now you're makin' me mad," he said. He relayed an order to the Twins, outlining just how important it was to protect Sam and Leo while the more experienced dealt with their problem. "This senior officer says its time to make some traitor pie, Autobots!"

It could not have begun at a more opportunistic place for the Decepticons. On all sides but one, a deadly drop awaited them all. Their two escape routes were blocked off and help was a long, long ways away. Bumblebee was trying to keep his back to the wall and still have both sides of the trail covered with his cannon, but they were outnumbered and outflanked. Their only option was to buy time long enough for help to arrive, and there was no sure way of knowing if that help would ever come. Even in his training scenarios, something this apparently hopeless was rare.

He had to protect Sam. That was all that mattered. Bumblebee returned Trailbreaker's silent signal to attack, and charged.

One side was destined to lose.

* * *

-

TBC


	15. The Brotha's Grim

**_Same Side_**

**_---  
_**

AN: Fans of many Autobots won't like this chapter.

Bumblebee.

The Twins.

Trailbreaker.

Storm Jet.

I just wrote the last fourteen chapters to screw with your heads.

I try to update every fifty hits or so on a chapter, to make sure I don't upload too fast for some readers. It doesn't bother me that there aren't many readers for this story, but I don't want anyone accidentally skipping a chapter due to _quick_ updates. It does happen.

* * *

_Chapter Fifteen: The Brotha's Grim_

_

* * *

  
_

In and out. In and out. In and out. Breathing had never been so hard.

They were all going to die here. Skids, Mudflap, Trailbreaker, Leo, Bumblebee, himself...and not because of a Decepticon ambush, but because of a deceiving Autobot who had switched sides at _the _worst possible had been Megatron's plan all along. No one would ever suspect one of the good guys turning bad, because...because...Sam couldn't think of why. Why? Jetfire had switched sides, but then it made so much _sense_. Every story made sense when the bad guy turned good, saw the light, became an ally because doing the right thing was a universally better thing to do, right? What kind of Autobot, especially one that taught Optimus most of what he knew, turned against his own kind?

The Fallen. That kind.

As if encouraged by his silent despair, the ground aroud him shook and rattled with the thundering impacts of missiles exploding, metal bodies being flung from one part of the cliff to the next. Two Autobots against one...one what? Decepticon? One Storm Jet. The former Autobot was enormous; watching him fight without even moving a single step in any direction was like watching a tree swat at birds with its branches. For now, the Twins put themselves between Leo and Sam and the rampage, doing as they were told by their commanding officer. Surprisingly, nothing came their way. It was as if Storm Jet didn't even care that the humans were there, focusing all of his passive destuction on Bumblebee and Trailbreaker.

The dark blue communications officer was nimble, able to dodge the intense beams as they flourished past him and left trails of score marks in the gray stone. Sometimes they glanced off the curved barrier attached to his left arm, just as they did when he rolled to the left in a crash of shuddering metal and opened fire on the back of Storm Jet's legs. The spray of hot bullets did little more than create a shower of sparks.

"Clever now, are we?" roared the betrayer, turning to face his one-time traveling companion. "You do remember some of the things I taught you. Well done. You have performed me a service that even Prime himself could not."

"Why you bein' such a hot-head, Stormy?" Trailbreaker asked, holding up his transparent golden shield, his pronounced mechanical brow arcing. "You in a bad mood suddenly? I thought we could talk this out, instead of getting all violent and stuff. We could work it out, man. It's a happier solution."

"Talk, talk, talk," Storm Jet said with evident disappointment. "All you ever seem to do is talk. Trailbreaker, you take your job much too seriously."

A white, hot beam of light flashed toward the blue Autobot. His shield just barely held under the enormous hissing pressure of the energy pulse. It caused an explosion; the force sent all five thousand and sixty-eight pounds of his weight flying backwards, crunching into the wall of the cliff next to the astonished Autobot twins. He remained motionless.

"Aw, that musta hurt. Hey, jalepeňo! you ain't as tough as you call it!" Mudflap scolded the much larger enemy Transformer, who ignored him.

Bumblebee was sailing through the air the next moment, having sprung up at the first chance he could. A massive yellow figure clamped down on Storm Jet's heavily weighted arm. Gamble and Sharpshot, who had hung back to watch their new ally in action, saw their chance to attack the unarmed humans and their pathetic bodyguards. Gamble shot a signal to his brother, and the silvery Decepticon crackled with enthusiastic agreement. Charging up their missile batteries, one pair of brothers began to barrel down on the other.

"Guys...guys!" Sam shouted, backing up tightly against the rough stone wall. The Twins saw the oncoming attack and braced for it. Gamble crashed into Skids and his sibling went rolling across the ground with Mudflap, a ball of flashing gunfire, slangy insults and _pinging_ of metal as they wrestled for a grip on each other.

The orange-red Autobot proved his luck when his large hand snagged the Decepticon's gun arm and sent the slightly bigger robot spinning. A wild shot from the missile launcher on Sharpshot's shoulder whistled towards Mudflap, who didn't have the trained reflexes to move in time.

Luckily, Skids provided for his twin brother at the last moment. Their near instantaneous link with each other kept him apprised of the situation, and he dove into Gamble's scrawnier midsection, sending both the Autobot and Decepticon skidding along the ground. Gamble happened to land on his back, directly in the path of Sharpshot's missile. It detonated on the armored plate on his side, launching him towards Skids, with Mudflap still attached. All three ended up in a pile, with the Twins pinning down the damaged Decepticon.

Storm Jet had dislodged Bumblebee almost effortlessly, though not before the yellow Autobot had a chance to fire a concussive shot into the larger robot's face. Sparks and circuits erupted violently from the charred hole in the red one's armour, and he was forced back a step. Growling with his vocal processors, Storm Jet clenched his hands as they transformed—into narrow, somewhat luminescent blades.

"Bumblebee!" screamed Sam, helpless to do anything but watch his friend confront a tyrant twice his size and ten times faster.

But his faithful friend and sometimes Camaro was adept and agile, if not as much a veteran as the foe he faced. As Storm Jet charged for him, the Autobot did the smartest thing he could have done in his situation—he transformed. In less than one and a half seconds. A scratched up and dirtied Camaro sped forward and between Storm Jet's legs, transforming and rolling at the same time on the other side. Three more concussion shells erupted between the metal plating on the red one's back.

It cost him his chance to evade Storm Jet's swinging blow. It cost him dearly. Yet the gravity of the body-crushing swipe of the former ally's right blade was almost anti-climactic. Bumblebee crumpled hard and flopped across the dusty ground like rag doll.

Sam almost choked on his tongue. Uncalled for tears burned the corners of his eyes. _Get up, Bee. Get up. Get up, just get up already! Damn you, why are you still lying there? Get up and fight!_

"Admirable effort, Bumblebee," said Storm Jet. His blades retracted, folded and the massive hands reappeared. "It was ages ago that someone actually managed to hit me. Prime's influence cascades through his pupils like a soundless echo of...sadly, in this case, defeat."

Convulsing slightly as his internal systems screeched critical warnings and threatened stasis lock, Bumblebee only moaned an electronic, sorrowful sound and rolled over onto his back in an effort to continue fighting. Either Storm Jet didn't seem him as a threat, or he took pity on the smaller robot, it didn't matter. He turned his glowing yellow eyes on Sam and Leo.

"Yo, peppa breath! Look what we got, stinkin' toe-lickin' Decepticon pimp-aft!" Skids broke the fearful moment for Sam, and both organic and robotic attention was drawn to him and his brother. "Bah-dahm, dahm! We gotch yo bitch's brains right here. Ya want 'em back?"

The green Autobot was swinging around Gamble's ironically unlucky head, which had at some point come detached from the pile of scrap that was now his body. Flickers of sparks and oil were still raining down the severed part, making Sam sickened as it was all too similar to watching a human head spout blood and flesh. Mudflap, standing next to a severely incapacitated Sharpshot, lifted his fingers to his ears and made a messed up face, even by robotic standards. Well, one set of fingers at least. Sam realized with an even more painful surge of nausea that the lower half of Mudflap's right arm had been severed.

"Ah, they really should have followed my orders, those incurable morons," Storm Jet lamented insincerely. "I suppose taking care you two is in order. Starscream would be unhappy to know I left any of my former comrades online."

Skids made the electronic equivelent of a gulp and slowly lowered the defeated Decepticon's head to the ground, holding up a hand. "Now uh...don' get too mad, 'cause we just playin'. We didn' mean it."

"Speak of the devil himself," the red former Autbot rumbled, glancing upward. What little warmth was left in Sam's body drained when he recognized the sound of the approaching jet. It was Starscream. The Decepticon flew in a long arc, unfolded and landed on the face of the cliff a hundred feet above their heads, curling his fingers in anticipation.

"Good work, Storm Jet," he drawled, with about as much genuine praise as Megatron would ever show him. "Now, finish off the two runts and take the boy prisoner. Feel free to crush the other insect while you're at it. It is such a satisfying sound, the crunch of their tiny bones as they shatter all at once."

"Mudflap, we gonna get our asses handed to us," Skids kicked Gamble's head over the edge of the cliff as though it were a bowling ball. "Hey, toadstool! What choo waitin' for? Run an' hide, 'fore we get all busy on yo face!"

Sam knew he was being addressed by the green Twin and came to the realization that Starscream wasn't going to come down here and snatch him on his own. The ledge was too narrow for more than one large robot to stand on, and probably not strong enough for them both. Bumblebee...he couldn't just leave Bumblebee. If he got to him, maybe somehow he could get him to transform, and then...

There was no way Bee was going to drive anywhere in his state. His large yellow frame shuddered and trembled as he tried to get up again and again, but his Energon was running out. Soon, he wouldn't be able to move at all. If Sam was going to live, to accept the sacrifice, he _had_ to run. Get away, prevent Megatron from extracting any more information from the Allspark knowledge in his head. The image of Optimus, crashing to the ground, hearing his voice order him to _run_, just before he died burned into the back of his eyelids. Sam's eyes flickered over to Bumblebee with wrenching guilt.

"_Go,_" his Autobot friend, his older brother and his guardian said with wheezy, gurgling static as his healing vocal processors hindered him. A short burst of static later, and a distorted, southern accented voice recording came over his radio, "_Go on now, git outta here."_

Sam grabbed Leo's sleeve and tensed to do that, to run and abandon his friends there and then. His muscles went rigid and he tried to move, but a scene unfolded in front of him that rooted him in place.

Without exchanging so much as a nod to each other, the Twins launched themselves forward in unison, releasing an air-splitting battle cry each. Storm Jet lifted his beam cannons with the clear intention to slice them both in half before they made contact...and found them ensnared by a pair of cables that wrapped around each of his arms multiple times. Like a couple of cattle wranglers versus the world's biggest bull, Skids and Mudflap swung around Storm Jet counter-clockwise, dragging his arms down and pinning them to his sides.

It was a great trick. Brilliant, even. But the large, crimson veteran was not done in by simply losing his arm cannons. With a metallic _snap_, both of the cables were severed when the former Autobot partially transformed, his sharp metal wings slicing through the tough metal ropes as though they were twine. The two twins crashed to the ground in uncontrolled tumbles.

They never even had a chance to get back on their feet. Storm Jet shot forward and clutched a massive hand on the green Twin's front plates. Flailing against the larger bot, Skids ineffectively fired off exactly three rounds, each ricocheting off of the red one's impenetrable armour.

"Relax, young one. On my spark, I will tell Prime of your bravery one day," Storm Jet promised curtly. He took two large steps towards the edge of the canyon, and effortlessly released the struggling Autobot into its gaping mouth.

"_No_!"screamed Sam.

Skids' frightened cry faded as he plummeted out of sight to certain death, but Mudflap's long, electronic wail did not. It ripped through Sam's soul like a jagged knife. It made the blistering silence following after utterly unbearable. Nearby, Bumblebee made a sputtering sound of denial.

Storm Jet turned around to face the last remaining Autobot, the last of the Twins. "Fear not, as your sparks will be reunited soon. It will bring peace to the suffering you feel now. That I promise."

"Mudflap," croaked Sam, voice too struck with shock to be more than a loud whisper. "_Run_, Mudflap. Don't let him..."

Bumblebee, Trailbreaker, Skids...how many did he have to maim and kill before he was satisfied? There was no way he could run now. If there was even the _slightest_ chance he could do something to save one of them, any one of them, he could be the one to sacrifice something for a change.

No sacrifice, no victory.

The red twin was in a stupefied state, but was quickly shaken out of it when Storm Jet began to advance on him. Mudflap bumped up against a jutting boulder standing just inches away from the edge of the chasm. In a matter of seconds, he would be on his way to joining his brother on the canyon floor.

Sam gathered his nerve to spring out of his protected pocket, prepared to bet his own life to negotiate for the last thee surviving Autobot's survival. Leo managed to snatch his shirt before he could go, however. Determined even more, Sam struggled against him and noticed his roommate pointing past his shoulder with a trembling finger.

Trailbreaker's oversized hand came out of nowhere to first snatch up Sam, and then Leo. Faster than he had ever moved before, the dark blue Autobot skated across the rocky terrain with a screaming human in each hand and charged down the slope. It could not have been timed any better—as Storm Jet reacted to Starscream's outraged outcry, the spire that the Decepticon had been holding onto exploded. Somewhere that seemed to distant to be real, Sam could have sworn he heard Optimus' voice shout his name.

"They have reinforcements! Fall back, you fool!" Starscream bellowed in Cybertronian to his defector ally, already in his terrestrial jet mode. The Decepticon shot around the sky, took a few daring shots at the last standing Twin on the ledge, missed, and broke the sound barrier with his hasty escape.

Suddenly, Sam and Leo were jerked to a halt as Trailbreaker arrived amidst a group of fully transformed and powered up Autobots. Lennox and Sheppard were standing up in their jeep, now parked in the middle of the road with a pair of similar vehicles manned by armed soldiers behind them. Carefully, the battered blue Autobot deposited the shaken adolescents on the ground as the shields covering both of his sides fizzed and shorted out. Trailbreaker then toppled over into a heap.

"Storm Jet!" shouted Optimus, standing at the front of the Autobot and human and rescue team. Still a hundred meters apart, they were out of range of each others' weapons. "I should not have trusted you from the moment you arrived on this planet. You will fall by my blades, traitor."

If the Prime's former mentor was affected by the heated threat, he showed no sign of it. Instead, the large red Transformer launched himself into the open air and transformed. His distinctly sleek, alien form seemed to pierce the sky as it rocketed away, following Starscream's trail.

"B-Bumblebee," Sam managed to choke, realizing that Ratchet was among them. He didn't have time to think about anything else, not when there was a possibility Bee was going to make it now. "Ratchet, he's hurt, bad. You have to help him."

"Calm down, Sam. I know what I'm doing," the medical officer advised him, nodding to Lennox. Ratchet rushed the rest of the way to the shelf where Mudflap and Bumblebee remained. Leo and Sam climbed onto the Jeep as the rest of the Autobots and the human vehicle began to ascend the rise back to the melancholy. Ironhide took the liberty to pick Trailbreaker up so that the exhausted Autobot did not have to limp his way to the ledge again.

No one bothered asking the two roommates if they were alright. Chances are they were not, and every soul present knew it was better to start recovering from the trauma before breaking the skin on barely scabbed wounds. A full minute later, they arrived at the scorched battleground.

Optimus surveyed the scene with both visual sensors and a sweep for any remaining traces of Decepticons. A dismembered body of the one he knew as Gamble lay in a tangled pile next to a motionless, yet still functional Sharpshot. Ratchet was assisting Bumblebee, whom he noted with dismay was crippled by a serious blow to his spark chamber. Without immediate stabilization, it might die out without warning. It was a weight that further disheartened him. Losing Bumblebee would be crushing. Imagining that outcome alone made him feel even more weakened, somehow.

It was then he realized the striking absence of one of the Twins. His blue optics turned to a lone Mudflap, whose door flaps were almost flattened against his back with outpouring grief. Distress gripped Optimus momentarily, and he asked slowly, "What happened here?"

Ironhide, less tactful, jerked his head left and right. "Hrmm? Where is that blundering green twit?"

"He's dead," Mudflap announced, vocals trembling. "Big red ugly glitch tossed him down there like he was a salad, y'see, so ma brotha's all itty bitty pieces, a'ight? Jes'...jes' lemme alone." If Autobots could cry, the red Twin would have broken down at this point. Instead, he ambled over to the chasm's edge and looked down into the void. For the first time in his life, he had nothing more to say.

"Skids," Optimus said with a reflective voice, sounding both devastated and strong at the same time. After a long pause, he went on. "You poor, brave Autobot. Your brother died a hero, Mudflap." He transmitted another word or two on their own frequencies to the smaller Autobot, unconvinced that it would bring him any more comfort.

Ratchet chose to work on patching most of the more critical parts of the heavily damaged Bumblebee while the others contemplated the news in silence. Knowing that the mouthy green one was forever beyond his repair made him more determined to save this one's spark. Oh, he had seen many soldiers fall on the battlefield under the merciless destruction caused by the Decepticons, yet it never ceased to throw his emotional core into chaos when the young, brave victims of the war were slaughtered.

And by one of thier own, as well. Never in an eternity would he have imagined Storm Jet turning against the Autobots. Something was terribly amiss about it all.

Lennox wasn't sure what to say. Until now, they're lost a scarce few Autobots in the war against their enemies. Jazz he never knew, even though he'd been told a lot about the late first lieutenant, and the plucky Beachbreak who he still felt guilt for. There was Jetfire...another former Decepticon made Autobot whose acquaintance he'd never had. Optimus was one of the worst blows of NEST history, just scarcely avoiding a political fallout when the Autobot leader was resurrected. It was tough imagining the Autobot hangar going back to the peaceful, brawl-free place it had been before the Twins joined up.

Soldiers died. No matter what they were made of, they all ended up the same way in the end.

Sam tried to control his fear after the latest Autobot victim, and for Bee's safety. Trying to _not_ imagine his guardian ending up a heap of sparkless metal, like he had witnessed months ago before he set out to find the Matrix. He looked up at Ironhide hopefully. "Isn't there a chance...y'know, he might have made it? Shouldn't someone check?"

The pitch black weapons' specialist just shook his head once in response. Hope was a weak tool to be employed in such a scenario. Even the most robust of Cybertronians could not possibly survive a sheer drop of that magnitude. It was the same fate that befell Beachbreak when Starscream had so callously knocked the young one from his shoulders and over Victoria Falls. What they recovered of him after the fact had been nothing short of tragic.

He informed Optimus of his intention to climb down the cliff face and recover Skids' remains, but his leader cut him off with a negative retort. Ironhide pressed the issue. Prime's overwhelming sense of duty made him feel as though it were his responsibility, but Starscream and Storm Jet were not far off. In the event they chose to attack during their wait for military transport, Optimus would be needed here, to defend the humans and their heavily damaged kin.

"Y'know, I think I can stand up on my own," Trailbreaker said with a bit of a warble. His damage extended to his voice, which was hardly entertainment or a big surprise for that matter. "You can put me down now, prince charming."

Ironhide did as the blue Autobot instructed. Trailbreaker teetered for a brief moment before planting his feet firmly on the ground. He slapped his head a few times, dislodging a large chunk of rock that had wedged itself into his neck joint. There were places slivers of the same terrestrial substance had become stuck, but he didn't feel like bothering anyone with that right now.

"I'm sorry," said Sheppard, as Major Lennox sat back down in the driver's side of the jeep. He received a silent shake of the head.

"We can't fix it. Just move on," Lennox summarized, putting a hand on the steering wheel. "We have to get back to the airbase and determine what comes next. The _Daedalus_ will be above the planet soon, but we need to expand our front lines. Taking this alien ship down doesn't sound like a walk in the park."

"Well, we usually nuke them. Doesn't always work," Sheppard said distractedly. He noticed that the Sam Witwicky kid was staring into space and felt bad for him. He was just a normal kid after all, right down to the brand name shoes he was wearing. A normal kid mixed up in the weirdest war in the history of the world.

The sound of metal cracking against rock jerked their attention towards Ironhide, who was pinning a heavily damaged Sharpshot against the face of the limestone wall. "Where is Megatron hiding?" the Autobot demanded darkly.

"My brother is dead, and my spark has no meaning," the Decepticon sputtered through a crushed vocal processor, oil dripping from the charred hole in his face. "I live only...to serve...Megatron..."

The glowing red eyes began to fade and flicker, while Optimus stepped towards his weapons' officer with meaning. "Ironhide, as much as I share your enthusiasm, he is of more use alive than dead. Be gentle."

"Hmph." Ironhide dropped their enemy without any consideration of gentility. It was not the usual policy to take prisoners of war, but there was only one sure way to determine just how deep Storm Jet's treachery went, and that was through the accounts of their enemy. "This one deserves nothing of the sort."

Lennox went about contacting the Compound NEST agents via radio, now that the signal was clear as day. They needed cleanup and evacuation as soon as possible, before Starscream could return with a small brigade of reinforcements to try and finish the job. Only one or two Autobots would stay behind to perform the task of collecting their dead. The NEST commander intended to stay behind as well with Epps to help with the uncomfortable operation, or at least stand by for moral support. The most important thing right now was getting the two kids to somewhere safe. Further planning could wait until after the debriefing when they had a chance to recover. Bumblebee and Trailbreaker would need time for medical attention and natural reparations. Mudflap...well, the surviving Twin would have to make it through one way or another. That was a job for the Autobots and them alone.

It had been a long two hour flight from the Compound, and the tension had been mounting ever since they left the state border and Optimus received the emergency transmission from Trailbreaker. On wheels, they had broken the speed limit almost one and a half times over in order to reach Smoke Hole as quickly as possible. No one could describe the violent mood that Optimus had sunk into upon learning about Storm Jet's treason. That same mood radiated from him now.

After a moment of silence, with the soldiers mingling about behind them, Sheppard glanced over at the major. "I know this sounds kind of weird, but...at least we made it in time."

"Yeah," came the reply, as Lennox set the radio down with a mental sigh. "We sure made it."

* * *

-

TBC


	16. Space Jammed

_**Same Side**_

_**---  
**_

AN: The collaboration of warm words via the reviewing process, in junction with the apparent lack of threats to my well-being suggests that I am performing admirably.

* * *

-

_Chapter Sixteen: Space Jammed_

_-  
_

The first hive ship arrived.

After a mild explosion of panicked chatter and the runaway limbs of three dozen people running to and fro to get to their posts, it was confirmed that the Wraith were not approaching Earth orbit. They chose instead to establish a comfortable spot on the other side of Mars, staying just out of sensor range but well within their long-range scanners. Enough to tell they were there, but not what they were up against. Worst news yet, the hybrid ship and the last of the surviving cruisers were nowhere to be found. And Decepticon activity had gone from slim pickings to null. It was as if the bad guys were waiting for someone to give them permission to start terrorizing the human race.

In the commotion, it was easy to forget about the tragedy of yesterday and the critical condition of one of the Autobots under Optimus' command. The autonomous leader himself was still at Smoke Hole Canyon with Ironhide, recovering what they lost. Most of the soldiers in the Compound Alliance kept their thoughts and voices to themselves for a while, proving that they could just as easily be affected by the loss of one of their alien allies, and the impact of an Autobot's betrayal. Especially since that betrayal could mean the start of a very long and painful war against the worst enemy of all—the public.

Ratchet was staying within a dozen paces of Bumblebee, keeping a close optic on the encourageable Autobot's vital systems as his body reconfigured the shape of his spark chamber in order to properly restore itself. Just as humans could not regrow their limbs once severed, damage to the spark chamber could only be rectified by the slow and tantalizing transformation it underwent, on the verge of stasis lock. Eventually, Bumblebee would transform again, but that day was not today.

Sam was determined to never leave the Autobot hangar until he could. He even set up a cot and had his few belongings brought to the former warehouse's office, where he set up a temporary living space. To his surprise, Leo joined him with his own stuff. The idea of continuing to share a room with the jumpy techie wasn't completely on the top of his list of preferences, but Leo was obviously shaken up and could use a familiar face now. Heck, even Sam could use a familiar face. Bumblebee was rarely in a state that wasn't recharging and Ratchet had sunk into a strange brooding silence that involved dutifully taking care of the injured, and returning to his alternate mode when he wasn't. Trailbreaker wasn't familiar, and seemed to be the least troubled by the recent events. After trying to lighten the mood with a few cracks at Decepticon intelligence, he gave up and spent several hours as a sports utility vehicle.

And Mudflap, well, there was no easy way to describe him now. He refused his Energon, refused to transform into his alternate guise, and wouldn't even let Ratchet near his severed right arm without showing signs of getting irrationally violent. He hadn't spoken since Smoke Hole. He simply stood there, staring at the collected pile of electronic scraps in the corner as it daring it to come alive.

When Sheppard came along around noon, Sam was just getting ready to leave his 'private quarters' and sit close to Bumblebee's side. In the past twelve hours, he had been beamed aboard a spaceship—an actually _spaceship—_in Earth orbit and beamed down again, making the trip to this Compound place almost instantaneous. No one would tell him what was going on, or why they were here instead of Diego Garcia, but when he saw Colonel Sheppard's face, he decided he could at least ask.

Sheppard wasn't expecting an interrogation. He scratched the back of his head and tried to think of something morally uplifting to say, but ultimately drew a blank. "I've kinda got a lot to deal with right now, kid, so I'm not exactly the right guy to be asking questions. I figured I'd stop by to make sure you're making out okay. Getting used to this sort of thing is...unsettling, I know."

"Believe me, I got used to all this years ago, Colonel," Sam's reply came as the teenage-yet-to-be-adult sat down on his cot. "But thanks, y'know, for trying."

"Right." An awkward silence passed. The colonel slapped the top of his fist to his other palm to break the silence. "You weren't, you know...close with the Autobot twins, were you?"

Sam knew the question was being asked out of curiosity rather than the normal drill for information Lennox's men used when they wanted to know what 'it' was doing inside his head every waking moment. Glad for a change in topic, he leaned back against the mattress and stared at the ceiling with his hands clasped over his stomach. "No...yes, maybe. I guess. Sort of..." He paused. "I'm just a college student, so I'm not exactly the right guy to be asking questions." That stung even as he said it, and thought again before continuing. "They're good Autobots. I got the impression they caused a lot of trouble, but...did you know, they all came here to find the Allspark? And when I kinda destroyed it, I wound up with a bunch of alien knowledge crammed inside my head. The Autobots...they all stayed here to protect Earth from the Decepticons. Every once in a while, more arrive and get to know what the human race is like. Funny how three years ago, this sort of stuff only existed in science fiction movies and Twilight Zone episodes. Now it's in my brain. Who knew?"

Sheppard made a 'hmm' sound and folded his arms as he sat down on the corner of a nearby table. "When you battle life-sucking aliens in another galaxy for five years, there are things you'd like to forget, too."

The kid craned his head up from his position. "Life-sucking aliens?"

"Yeah. That's why I'm here—to let you know they gave both your and your buddy security clearance for the Stargate Program. Can you believe _our_ top-secret government alien conspiracy is considered to be even _more_ secure than NEST?"

"Wait...so there're more aliens working with the government?"

"Well, I wouldn't say 'working with', but that's pretty much what I meant when I said I had a lot to worry about," Sheppard admitted.

Sam thought about it for a moment, before saying, "It's my fault."

"Huh?"

"The reason Skids is dead now...it's my fault. It was mine when Optimus died a few months ago, too. They were both trying to protect me. Sometimes I don't even know what they want to protect more—me, or what's inside my brain."

"Hard to see the big picture when your friends are giant robots from another planet?"

"I don't know. How much easier can it be when your enemies are life-sucking aliens?"

"Touch_é_."

Sam abruptly sat up and placed his hands on his knees. "I'm going to keep an eye on Bumblebee. I have a few things I wanted to ask Ratchet."

"Tell him I said 'hi'," the colonel requested, only partially watching the college student stand up and leave the crappy little anex that barely passed as a bedroom. Before he could form another thought, his radio crackled to life.

"_Sheppard, can you hear me?"_

It was Rodney. Frowning slightly, John switched the mic on his earpiece on and said, "Loud and clear, Rodney. What's going on?"

_"Oh, thank God, the radios are still working. Um, this is going to sound a little weird, but are you by any chance inside the CAR building?"_

"Yes, I am. At the risk of repeating myself, what's going on, McKay?"

_"Good, good, the CAR should be shielded well enough in case, well...are all of the Autobots inside, as well?"_

"As far as I know, Rodney, now would you care to explain what you mean by 'should be shielded well enough'? Shielded against what?"

"_That's, heh...that's the strange thing, Colonel, because for whatever reason, the Daedalus has just locked its weapons on our position. And they're not responding on any channels."_

Sheppard bolted upright. "What?"

"_We've already launched half a dozen F-302's to try and punch through what I'm fairly sure is a very intricate and possibly unbreakable jamming sequence, but so far we haven't heard from them, either."_

"And when were you planning on telling me this?" Sheppard dashed to the opening in the office building that led to the main hangar and stopped. "McKay? Rodney, answer me!"

"_We weren't...quence is just start to str...ending up...epicton, so ju...where you are until--"_

The radio went dead.

"McKay! Rodney! Dammit!" Fueled by the creeping bad feeling in his gut, the lieutenant colonel propelled himself out into the somewhat crowded Autobot hangar and pointed to where Bumblebee was being kept for recuperation. "Ratchet, Sam, find something to hold onto and that goes for you guys, too!" He moved his finger between Mudflap and Trailbreaker, who had taken up post just inside the CAR entrance. "That's an order!"

He wasn't even sure if his orders counted in the alien residence, but clearly his urgency got through to them, because Ratchet stopped his delicated welding on Bumblebee's chest cavity and stepped over to where Sam was perched on a nearby stool, ready for just about anything. The blue SUV on the opposite side of the warehouse unfolded into Trailbreaker's bipedal form, overlooking the handful of military personnel who had been standing guard outside. All four men in uniform began to yell incoherently and sprinted into the wide open doors as hell itself opened in the sky above.

Sheppard took a few, stumbling steps toward the entrance, staring up at the assorted beams of Asgard light that parted the clouds and slammed into the ground. One, two, three more energy charges sliced across the unprotected barracks at the other end of the Compound, tearing up vehicles and buildings alike in bright orange fireballs as they came scorching towards the CAR. The colonel saw the enormous white wall fast approaching and instinctively dove towards a wall, just as the alien beam weapon washed over their position.

The shield protecting the CAR building sizzled and hummed loudly as the Asgard blast struck it again and again. Everywhere else, the ground shook and trembled with each pulse. Even Trailbreaker swayed back and forth, grabbing the warehouse door to steady himself.

Three things shot through Sheppard's mind. One, they were being shot at by their own people. Two, the shield that covered the Autobot's building wasn't powerful enough to withstand an all-out assault from the _Daedalus'_ Asgard weapons for long.

And three: there was literally nothing he could think of to stop the entire Compound from being destroyed.

* * *

-

It took several hours to find the location where Skids had landed, more so due to the results of his landing than pinpointing the trajectory from above. The human trail ended at the mouth of the canyon, forcing Optimus to continue on wading through the river in his natural form. He spotted the first piece of the young Autobot wedged between two rocks that protruded from the water. An arm, no less, and a few tattered circuits.

This was how he began the numbing task of gathering up every fraction, no matter how big or small of the once rambunctious twin. He carefully placed them atop a flat slab of limestone on the edge of the river, allowing them to dry, until he at last came across what he had been searching for.

Skids' body was half submerged in the water, a dismantled hulk that hardly resembled the Autobot. Optimus pulled himself through the river to reach the wreckage and discovered with dismay that almost nothing had remained intact after the collision, including the poor Autobot's head. Wherever it may be, possibly on the bottom of the river itself, it and many other pieces would likely go missing forever. It could be that many of them had been washed along by the strong current or buried in mud. He would need the humans' help to scour the riverbed.

There was much to do.

Since learning about the small planet of Earth, home to a previously unknown species called humans and final resting place of the Allspark, Optimus had hoped for a much brighter future for the Autobots than he dared dream before. A completely habitable planet was a rare find in this galaxy, no less one that contained life, and a dominant sentient race of beings so full of potential that it was boggling. And finally, to discover the existence of a faction of this race capable of traveling distances that far exceeded even Cybertronian standards was mystifying still. Clearly the humans had in their possession a means to visit not one or two habitable planets amongst the millions of stars in the galaxy, but hundreds. Perhaps even thousands.

Wars had been fought for territorial control before, in the not too distant history of Cybertron. Their homeworld had once been perfectly suited for their kind, but as with most civil wars, it was devastated by the centuries of constant battling between one faction and another. The prospect that another Cybertron could be built, kindled and reconstructed from the remains of the current generation was no longer just a dream, but a reality.

But with the state of things now, there may not be much of the current generation to continue. This war would inevitably destroy them all, Autobot and Decepticon alike. Each and every day they were discovering new enemies that threatened their future. Threats...like Storm Jet.

An old, wise mentor he had been some centuries ago, but no amount of admiration or respect for his former teacher could warm his spark now. One Autobot destroying another was not a perogative of war, but of malicious slaughter. Skids had been as skilled in combat as his twin brother, neither one of them with even a fifth of the training considered to be a reasonable standard for warfare. Yes, the old ways had clearly been lost forever. It was not justice to use that against the young and unprepared.

Optimus continued to track down and collect the scattered pieces of his lost comrade until there were no more to be found. He had just resigned himself to contacting Lennox's salvaging team when his optics spotted something glint on the surface of a pale white rock, three feet beneath the river's surface. The Autobot leader delicately submerged two fingers into the current and pinched the tiny object, lifting it into the air as water streamed from his servos.

It was the metallic 'tooth' Skids had purchased from one of the human specialists at the NEST base. The young Autobot had taken a shine to some of the more vibrant cultures Earth's people had to offer, and having part of their planet's natural metals—an alloy called 'gold'--grafted where part of his natural components had once been was one of many mannerisms he adopted alongside his brother. That, in addition to the 'tattoos' another human had willingly painted on the Twins' exterior plating, were just two examples of many.

Sam had the knowledge of the Allspark within him. However long it would remain there was a mystery, but there just may be a chance to salvage what was left of their race, and start anew. Optimus slowly closed a fist around the tiny golden fragment, and tried to imagine a brighter future despite the cold hard reminder laying on his palm.

"Ironhide," he said to his weapons' specialist, who had been silently moving towards him since he arrived at his location a few minutes prior. "I have seen enough innocents die as a result of the Decepticons' cowardly tactics. It is time we took this war into our own hands."

* * *

-

Storm Jet looked over the scraps that remained of the Decepticon drone he had dismantled not four Earth hours ago. Extracting the information he required had not been easy, nor had been the task he performed in the eyes of the Autobots and Decepticons alike. He continued to this very moment to believe was operating for a higher purpose, and since his moment of departure from Cyberton, this had to be the _only_ way to end the war between the brotherly descendants of the Primes.

The Primes, whom he existed only to obey—their regimes, their legacy and their lineage breathed life into his actions. This was no mere question of loyalty to Megatron or Optimus, but to the future of all members of their slowly dying race. How could these strange human creatures understand the twinge of near extinction, with their numbers thriving well into the billions on this tiny planet they plundered and strangled with their ignorant ways? They could never understand. They were only pawns in a far grander battle soon to come—unfortunate, bystanding pawns incapable of comprehending what it meant to sacrifice everything for their homeworld.

No, the day's events had not been easy. His Energon was running out, his servos beginning to wear away from the center. This unbearable corruption in his processors would eventually cut out everything that made him a true Cybertronian, invoking his hatred and regret towards ever having associated with the microscopic machines. His price for breaching his own protocol would soon be due, but not before he sealed the very last step in his plan to destroy the Decpticons for good.

He only hoped Primus would forgive him for the atrocities he had performed in order to reach that goal.

* * *

-

TBC


	17. How To Lose Friends & Alienate Aliens

_**Same Side**_

_**---  
**_

AN: Oh boy, so much happens here that even I'm getting confused. You will also be very confused at the end of this chapter. Way to keep it together, girl.

* * *

-

_Chapter Seventeen: How To Lose Friends & Alienate Aliens_

-

Four minutes. It took two hundred and forty seconds for the shield's computer to adjust the intertial dampening ratio to match the pounding force of the Asgard beams. After that, it became a lot easier to stand up and move without being thrown to the ground by a violent tremor. Sheppard managed to drag his feet under him and run practically sideways towards the back of the CAR hangar. "It's not gonna last!" he shouted between the deafening impacts. "Everyone take cover! Shield's gonna go any minute!"

He made it nine steps when a dark blue giant overtook him, bounding like an oversized metal gazel towards the small annex that housed the shield generator. The colonel already gauged what Trailbreaker was doing, and wondered for a sixteenth of a second if the idea was as crazy as it seemed in his head. He stumbled after the Autobot to ascertain the answer to that question.

As another one of the great white blasts shook the former warehouse, Trailbreaker wasted no time in peeling back the thick aluminum door—too small for even the smallest Autobot on Earth—and ducking into the generator room. The bright blue light of the naquadah machine washed over the dinged and still-battered frame of the communications officer as he flicked away one of its outer panels, then closed a hand around the exposed wiring. Trailbreaker's hand transformed, driving three spindly rods into the generator as though it as though it were made of butter.

Wait, Sheppard thought. Weren't the Autobots incompatible with naquadah? If the Stargate was causing interference, then something pumped with naquadah energy couldn't be good.

His faint concern got lost in the moment as, with a very unsatisfying crackle of electricity, the globual yellow device in Trailbreaker's arm lit up. The shield generator began to emit a strange humming sound that escalated in pitch over the next few stations. It didn't sound healthy, but apparently it was starting to work. At least, the colonel hoped it was. It might even buy him enough time to commandeer something with wings (or drive pods) to take care of the _Daedalus _problem.

"Good job, buddy," he said to the Autobot without a moment's hesitation, before lurching back in the other direction. He didn't even think; he burst through the group of marines standing near the entrance of the CAR building and through the shimmering barrier that separated the Autobot hangout from doomsday.

There was no inertial dampening outside. Sheppard was jolted off his feet when another beam hit the shield behind him, and thrown to the ground. He landed on his shoulder and rolled, barely losing momentum as he grabbed the side of of the the cross-compound mini-carts, jumped in and started her up. Never been one for driving, the next tremor nearly made his hand slip off the gears and send the vehicle in reverse.

Explosions rocketed around him as the white-and-gray cart swerved around, speeding toward the hangar on the far end of the top secret military base. There were still people running about—far more than the norm, considering the situation upstairs. Most of the _Daedalus'_ fire seemed to be concentrated on the CAR and Compound 1; he might even get to the F-302 storage before something drastic happened--

The pavement in front of him erupted in white fire.

Sheppard's cart was sent skidding sideways under the force of the Asgard beam, sending both the crippled vehicle and the colonel inside rolling over three or four times before coming to a stop against the wall of a concrete building.

He might have been unconscious for an hour, or half a minute. Light streamed through his eyelids, blurred with a warm trickle of blood and tiny bits of gravel. Grunting as pain stabbed through his left leg, Sheppard tried to shift out of the precarious position he was in—he could smell leaking gasoline and the idea of being in the middle of an engine fire disturbed him, despite the fact that he could barely think. Groping with one arm in front of the other, he dragged his stunned body inch by inch over the rollbar of the wrecked cart. He was halfway out when a strong hand seized him by his vest and hauled him to his feet.

"Don't stop movin', Sheppard. This isn't a playground," said Sergeant Epps, just before the crackling roar of another Asgard beam split the air. "I'd stand here comparing this stunt to somethin' Major Lennox would do, but we don't have time. I suggest we both get back to Compound 1 right now, sir."

"No," the colonel coughed, relieved that he could still feel all four limbs and the only bleeding seemed to be coming from a gash on his forehead and one on his thigh. "Airspace...command...I have to get to a Puddlejumper. Go tell Lennox the Autobots need another..." He coughed again, as his already throbbing eardrums took another hit. "...another naquadah generator. McKay'll know what to do."

"Sheppard, sir, that's a lot of alien up there--"

"That's an order, Sergeant!" For a solid moment, John stared intently into the eyes of the weapons' officer. Epps took a step back, and saluted him sharply—without a shred of indecency—before turning around and sprinting off towards Compound 1. He was joined seconds later by a ragged group of marines, and he signaled something to them. Whatever it was, Sheppard didn't have time to find out. Focusing on the entrance to the F-302 storage warehouse, he started to half-run, half-limp in its general direction.

* * *

-

"Incoming transmission!"

The tech's shout was surprisingly louder than the rest of the clamour inside Compound 1's operations center. It was enough to jerk McKay out of his 'oh shit, what do I do?' stupour of helplessness and remind him that _he_ was the one in charge of the scientists scattered around the Stargate controls. Luckily, Major Lennox also happened to be standing nearby and reacted before anyone noticed Rodney's distanced expression. Ronon and Teyla were both nearby, having fallen into the background since the barrage began. Their short-lived break was officially over.

"It's from the Wraith, sir," the same technician explained to Lennox as the major stepped closer to the viewscreen.

"Let's hear it, then."

Three seconds later, the wide, paper-thin screen in the midst of the computers flickered before displaying the mottled blue face of a Wraith commander. The visage broke into a wide grin as his message was received.

"_That was far quicker than we expected. Are you ready to surrender to our terms?"_

Lennox had seen aliens. He had even seen Wraith before, in video recordings of Stargate Command mission reports. But this one was by far one of the ugliest and scariest living, thinking creatures he had ever set eyes on. He leaned over the console and narrowed his eyes. "I'm not accustomed to negotiating with aliens who don't even introduce themselves. That said, we don't know what your terms are, or particularly care for that matter. Now give me a good reason we shouldn't just hang up on you."

"_As you are no doubt aware,"_ the Wraith said, still grinning. "_Your own battleship has turned its weapons on your facilities, and we have calculated that it will only be a matter of fifteen of your planet's minutes before your shields are depleted. Should you fail to comply with our demands, we will not only destroy your base of operations, but Atlantis and several of Earth's most populated cities as well. That, I suspect, will suffice as a reason to remain 'on the line', as you would put it."_

"Oh, come on. You want us to believe that _you're_ the ones responsible for the _Daedalus? _You guys couldn't even hack my intergalactice bridge without an instruction manual." McKay snapped the insult without even thinking, and since this was the norm when it came to dealing with Wraith, didn't even care if it made the situation worse.

The Wraith seemed to focus on him for a moment before continuing. "_You have very little reason to doubt us. You will turn over the one called Lieutenant Colonel John Sheppard, and the leader of the claimed Autobots. Have them brought to a secure location where our transports can beam them into our custody, and we will cease firing on your planet. Refuse, and you seal the fate of your home planet."_

_

* * *

-  
_

Nineteen hours, forty-two minutes and eight seconds prior to the Compound's dilemma, Skids found himself plummeting to the bottom of a two hundred and fifty meter drop, completely shut off from his world of comfort and convinced he was going to die.

"Ow!" Three hundred feet from the bottom, he bounced off a flat shelf on the face of the gorge wall.

"Motha-glitch..!" He hit another rock jutting out from the cliff.

Skids struck a limestone boulder four times his size when he finally impacted the bottom, and obliterated it in an explosion of rubble. Thus, without so much as a dent or a scratch, the Autobot was sent into an uncontrolled spin before crashing back down into the river.

He burst from the rippled surface of the river and clambered his way to the bank, spraying water from his mouth and various circuits. Dazed and confused, he stumbled around until his sensory data stopped spouting nonsense and shook his head, looking aroud wide-eyed. "What da hell...? Mudflap! 'Ey, Mudface, where you hidin' on me? Answa me, bro!"

No one. No connection. The fact that he had just fallen five times further than any Cybertronian had even survived and was still online didn't get to him. That wasn't scary. He was scared as hell about not feeling his brother on the other side of the link, though. The _Twins_ link. Nothing ever screwed around with that. Only reason he wouldn't feel that was if he was dead, or Mudflap died, which couldn't be possible because that sort of thing didn't happen. The green twin charged his vocals and belted out his brother's name as loud as he could in a bargled electronic signal.

"_Mudflap!"_

He didn't like using the old language out loud like that, but nothing else was working. Agitated, the young Autobot punched the trunk of a nearby tree when he didn't get a response. The tree buckled in compliance, splintering around his fist—but he didn't feel it. Something pale green shimmered around his metal plating.

"Oh, snap," he said to no one in particular. Skids slapped his hand against the crumpled trunk a few times, but instead of the usual 'ping' of metal, the sound of an energy barrier crackling to life drifted into his audio processors. One of those weird human shield things was stuck to his chest plate, like the one McCrazy had tested on him a few days back. He swayed backwards and made a grab for it, but his fingertips stopped against the same energy field that kept him shielded in the first place.

"C'mon! Le' go! Le' go!" He hit it again and again, but there was just no knocking it off. It clung to him almost defiantly.

"Aw, Mudflap, if you's dead, yo gonna get a world-class aft-whoopin' from yo big brotha when I get back," he said out loud, turning around to blink at his surroundings. Other than small crater where he'd landed and the coursing river that streamed around it, there wasn't much down here but bushes and trees and stuff. When did these flesh biters ever stop building roads in places they really needed them? So damned inconvenient sometimes.

The green Autobot started to hike along the edge of the river, occasionally slipping on a rock or a twisted log as he made his way to the end of the long, winding canyon. If he couldn't transmit something soon to the others to let them know he was okay, there was going to be a lot of hell raised when he got back, and letting Optimus down wasn't in this robot's agenda. Not to mention he wanted to get back up on that ledge and teach old Storm Cloud what happened when you piss off the mean killing machines.

* * *

-

Sam was trapped in a world of mayhem inside another world of chaos wrapped with lunacy and the defiance of all laws of physics and nature combined.

He wasn't an Autobot. Of that, he was _completely_ sure. But there was this nag, nag, nag, nag, nagging presence trying to creep into the cracks in his brain and drill translations he didn't know through his consciousness that had no sound but still _sounded_ like the Cybertronian gibberish that he had heard so many dozens of times before. Wave after wave of blurred images flashed by the corner of his eye and strings of non-existent code swarmed around him like a hive of angry bees. Bees? Bumblebee!

From the split moment before the CAR hangar came under attack, he had been so lost inside his own head that he hadn't been paying attention to his guardian. Bee had woken up from his recharging cycle with his optics (no, eyes) pinned on Sam the entire time, despite the fact that twenty-three point nine five percent of his visual enhancing core (retina, pupil, photon receptors maybe?) was still shut down and undergoing residual fracture repairs...wait, wait, wait. Did he just think that? That was something Ratchet would say if someone ever—and people rarely did just because of that—asked him what he was doing when repairing one of the Autobots. This was not good. Everyone was in danger; this was _not_ the time to start thinking about robot medical practices!

On semi-auto, Sam pulled his face away from his hands and stood up, almost falling over when the ground trembled around him. He had no idea what was going on, but Bumblebee probably knew less and considering the string of bad events that kept on coming, it wasn't fair to keep his guardian in the dark.

"Hey Bee," he said in an unconvincing calmness. "Don't worry, Ratchet's coming back soon. I think there are aliens shooting at us from space, but hey, I could be wrong. I mean, Georgia has earthquakes, right? Or that could be tornadoes, but...that doesn't matter. How are you?"

The yellow Autobot made an uncertain sound cascaded in pitch. Sam didn't need a radio transmission to know that his friend couldn't be feeling too well, halfway through repairs and still absorbing physical and emotional shock. He stepped closer as Bee's blue optics followed him, reaching out to place a reassuring hand on his guardian's head—

Trillions. Quadrillions. Good or bad or something else, their compact information traveled at speeds beyond regular neural networking infrastructure, expanding and retracting all at once, forming solid blocks of foreign materials into familiar shapes. Hundreds of symbols, pulsating red warnings trying to crack his skull open in an attempt to explain _why_ he was seeing this swarmed underneath his eyelids when he blinked, and flickered across his vision too fast for his human mind to comprehend.

_Tell Prime. _

Optimus. He had to see Optimus. The last piece of the puzzle slammed into the back of Sam's brain like a brick, and even though he didn't fully understand it, he suddenly knew how the Decepticons were tracking him, and a very good hunch about the real reason Storm Jet turned on the Autobots.

Despite his raging headache, Sam closed his eyes and thanked the Allspark for making sense for the first since he accidentally absorbed the thing.

* * *

-

"What?"

McKay's incredulous outburst came shortly after the transmission from the Wraith super ship was cut off. "This is ridiculous. What do they want with _Sheppard_? I mean, Optimus Prime I understand, since the Wraith are allied with the Decepticons, but Sheppard, he's just a..._"_

"You're just jealous they didn't ask for you," said Ronon, glancing over his shoulder at the scientist as he continued to pace back and forth.

"Right, _insanely_ jealous that the aliens who want to eat me aren't using my life as a bargaining chip. You've got me."

"Can we focus more on saving our asses than being pains in them?" Lennox interjected before the team's squabbling could spread to the Compound personnel who were awaiting orders. The Wraith were holding a Decepticon gun to their heads—he knew it—and he didn't want to find out how trigger happy they were. The lieutenant colonel's suggestion popped into his mind, the one about nuking the Hive ships, but getting that kind of firepower anywhere near their ship in orbit around Mars was not an option. They needed a plan. "We need more time," he said. "Is there anything we can offer them that will buy us long enough to send for reinforcements?"

"Even if there was, Major, these Wraith aren't that stupid," McKay was the first to explain. "They know we have enough F-302s—which were incidentally built and reinforced since the _last_ time the Wraith came to Earth—to seriously hurt them if they came into orbit. Needless to say, that means they probably know we can still call for help, and they're not going to give us enough time for reinforcements to come. Short of complete and utter surrender, offering them anything would just hasten our inevitable demise."

"Are you saying there's _nothing_ we can do to get these goddamned leeches to stop firing on us with our own weapons?"

"Sir, if I may..." A mousy looking technician from the dialing controls spoke up. Lennox didn't know his name, but he knew he wasn't well liked even by other Stargate employees. "There is one way we can stop the _Daedalus _from destroying this facility."

"Of course there is, but we haven't reached that point yet!" Dr. McKay rounded on the tech angrily, more agitated than he had ever been in Lennox's presence.

"What are you talking about?" asked the NEST commander.

McKay shot a dirty look at his subordinate before turning back. "He means the remote self-destruct protocal for the _Daedalus'_ hyperdrive engine."

"Our power generators will only be able to sustain the Compound's shields for another eight minutes! The CAR building has even less time. If we don't--"

"Let me get this straight," interrupted Major Lennox, holding up a hand. "You're suggesting we blow up our own ship, killing our own people, before we think of a _better_ plan?"

"As much as I hate to say it, it might come down to that." McKay sighed heavily. "We can't disable the Asgard beam weapons—something's blocking our failsafe codes. The hyperdrive system, on the other hand, is a _lot_ more elaborate and I can think of about two dozen ways to hack into its mainframe to initiate a critical overload. When it comes right down to it, it's the hundred odd personnel on board _Daedalus_, or possibly thousands if not _millions_ of lives that will be lost if the beams punch through our shields, subsequently turning on Earth's major cities just like the Wraith promised."

It was hard to imagine that what he was hearing was true. Lennox knew that tough decisions had to be made in war; tougher ones had to be made when fighting alien armadas. His respect for McKay and his science team was slipping down a few oily notches as he stood there and listened to what _sounded_ like a reasonable explanation, but reeked of self-preservation. They were not soldiers, he had to remind himself. Ronon, maybe, but the big silent alien member of Sheppard's team was standing quietly by and allowing everyone else to make the decisions. Lennox had not exactly decided to give up at this point.

"Pour whatever you can into the shields," he ordered the fidgeting team of scientists. "Also, see what you can do to break this damn radio jamming that's going on. I'm getting tired of being cut off from my own men."

He snapped his fingers at Sergeant Richmond, one of his communications experts. He and his two newcomers stopped what they were doing as the NEST leader conveyed his orders. "Morse code, postcards, smoke signals...I don't care how, but get the request for reinforcements out to the people who can do something about this spaceship problem. Deliver a message to the standby crew; I want those railguns online within five minutes, just in case God thinks we aren't screwed enough and throws a few TIE Fighters our way."

Once he was done spilling the last of his directions, Compound 1 went from lively to chaotic as people scrambled to get things done. In the back of his mind, Lennox was wondering if the Autobots and their visitors in the CAR were still alright, but he couldn't think about that for long. They had to fend for themselves out there. They already send people in an armoured vehicle to deliver another generator in order to extend their shield time, but if that failed, they would lose not only four very good Autobots, but a few good soldiers and even Sam Witwicky.

Lose a hundred, or lose the war. With a decision like that swinging on a pendulum, Lennox wished more than ever that he hadn't missed his video date with his wife a few days prior. The last time he spoke to them didn't feel like a goodbye. He could die today and he couldn't even remember what the last words he said to his family were.

For a brief moment, the answer to his big decision became obvious.

* * *

-

Fifteen minutes after starting his long trek to the end of the gorge, Skids stopped in his tracks. Something large and metallic slammed into the shallow part of the river behind him. Even as he turned around to find out what it was, he found himself being lifted into the air by a familiar red hand.

"I did not go through such painstaking lengths to spare your life just so you could escape, sparkling." Storm Jet's broad, roughly oval shaped face loomed in front of him as the much larger robot hoisted his unwilling charge off the ground. For some reason, Storm Jet's massive appendage sliced through the protective shielding as though it weren't even there. "It was not easy stealing from the Compound. For a human facility, they turned out to be quite adept at anti-drone countermeasures. I did attempt to send your brother down here to keep you company, but Prime came and interfered. My apologies."

Well, now he knew how the shield thing-a-ma-jig got into Cloudy's hands and onto his grill, but Skids wasn't happy about being tossed around and bossed around by big red bullies. He charged the small cannon on his right arm, preparing to blast a hole in the traitor's face as he retorted, "I ain't yo baby, so put me down, bitch."

"Very well, ungrateful youth." Storm Jet tightened his grip, making the green Twin squeak as he was unceremoniously transported to an extremely large boulder off the shore of the water. Without warning, a cable the thickness of a human arm sprang from a concealed mechanism under the red one's arm and punctured Skids' midsection, just far enough to latch on to his outer armour. Ignoring the Autobot's irriated exclamation, Storm Jet drilled the other end of the cable into the eight thousand pound limestone boulder. Even Optimus himself would likely not be able to escape this tether.

"What choo up to, stupid robot?" demanded the Twin, stumbling backwards as he was dropped to the ground. He ended up tripping and landing with a loud 'clang' on his aft. "Nobody makes friends tyin' them up to big rocks, or didn' yo mamma ever tell you that?"

"The shielding device will only last three days," Storm Jet explained, sloshing through the river as he moved out into the open. "Until then, it is rather important that both Optimus and my Decepticon 'allies' belive you are dead. I hardly expect you to understand the complexity of my strategy, but do please try to not raise a fuss. My plan must succeed at all costs."

"I ain't finished wit' choo!" Skids called after him, tugging on his twenty-foot prison, but it stayed securely fastened to the 'big rock'. "Get yo ass back here!"

Storm Jet slowly turned around, as the jets on his back unfolded and began to glow, charging up with a dull whine. "In three days, this world will be a much different place. Until then, enjoy the natural beauty of this canyon. Consider it a...vacation, of sorts."

"Wha's that s'posed to mean?" Skids watched as the former Autobot levitated from the ground and yelled again, "Wha's that s'posed to mean, bitch?"

But with a thunderous clap of sound, Storm Jet shot into the sky in a red blur. When the echo of his departure finally faded away, the Twin was left alone, drenched, tired and wondering just where the hell he went wrong to deserve such a crappy vacation.

* * *

-

TBC


	18. Air Force Won

**Same Side**

**---  
**

AN: I'm the kind of person that licks all of the cookies so no one else can eat them. I'm also the kind of person that eats the cookies even if someone has licked them.

You're all doomed.

* * *

-

_Chapter Eighteen: Air Force Won_

_-  
_

Ironhide knew that something was brewing in Optimus' processors long before they took to the road on the long trip to the NEST outpost. He may have questioned him about it had their military escort not lost contact with the human vessel _Daedalus. _There was a blue plastic sheet in Ironhide's trailer bound together, wrapped up and tied down with vinyl cords. Even though its contents were deeply troubling to the weapons' specialist, he had a distinct feeling that this was not what was preoccupying his commanding officer and leader of the Autobots.

Traveling under the speed limits set by local human authorities made their progress a slow one. To take his thoughts off of the tarp behind his cab, flapping noisily in the wind, Ironhide chose to satiate his curiosity and question the owner of the taillights in front of him.

_"You are contemplating Storm Jet's betrayal again, aren't you?"_

Their interactions had always been less than formal than military regulations dictated, which agreed with Ironhide's blunt nature. He had known Optimus long before it was revealed that he was a Prime, and scarcely anything had changed since then. Optimus was a good friend and comrade, and he knew him well enough that despite all appearances, their esteemed leader was wrought with self-blame, which he refused to pass on to anyone else no matter the circumstances.

_"Megatron and Starscream have been able to predict our movements without error for several days now." _There was a pause in Prime's transmission. "_I'm no good at this, Ironhide. This time, I have failed to determine the source of the information leak before we lost a good comrade."_

_"Leak? There are dozens of humans capable of--_

_"No. Since the formation of the Compound Alliance, we have withheld much from our human allies. No human could have aided Storm Jet this far. The source is within our own: the Autobots."_

_"You're insinuating there is _another_ traitor among us?"_

_"I am certain of it. But for the spark in my chest, I cannot even begin to suspect my own officers . Storm Jet has always been strong in his ideals, treading the line between justice and sanity. His transgression against us could have been predicted."_

_"Then allow me to be candid; Trailbreaker was with Storm Jet for years after our departure from Cybertron."_

Optimus decelerated by three point twelve miles per hour, consequently forcing Ironhide to do the same. That was the only indication that the Prime might have his own doubts about their communications officer.

_"Trailbreaker was brought online amidst a battlefield, in a region devastated by Megatron's armies. His hatred of the Decepticons aged with him poorly, though he chooses not to show it. He would not willingly betray us."_

There was little more to offer beyond that. Most of the Autobots now operating on Earth's surface were still in Diego Garcia, unaware of the dilemma with the Wraith and hybrid forces looming overhead. Of the few involved with the Compound Alliance, Ratchet was the least likely to be a double agent for the Decepticons. Bumblebee was young and brash at times, but far too concerned with his love for humankind to be seriously considered as a possible traitor. That left the Twins. Storm Jet had intentionally gone after Skids and extinguished his spark to inflict pain on the remaining Autobots, of that there was no doubt. Suspecting a dead friend, as infuriatingly annoying as the little punk had been, was a terrible thing to do to the young Autobot's memory.

_"When we return to the Compound, I will attend to Mudflap's interrogation_," Optimus transmitted, catching Ironhide off guard and sending his intermediate circuits buzzing. _"I greatly admired their pluck and bravery in the face of immediate danger. But as a leader, I must concede the possibility that the Twins have been corrupted by their time spent on Cybertron, with or without their knowledge."_

Just when he began to believe he knew Optimus inside and out, from his spark to the rivets in his knee joints, Ironhide was continuously proved wrong. His logic agreed that there may have been a possibility that Skids had been eliminated as a disposable casualty of Storm Jet's scheming, but as two-dimensional as Ironhide's beliefs about problem solving may be, he could not bring himself to believe that either of the Twins were capable of espionage.

But then, Sixshot's attack on the Twins, on the surface of that alien planet had been far too random to be a coincidence. They had delayed the mission to destroy the hybrid cruiser, nearly causing a catastrophic failure. And every time the Decepticons had ambushed them, they had been in the center of it all. As a matter of fact, the one mission they had not been been part of had been their excursion that led to Storm Jet, when they were left behind due to their Energon over-usage. In retrospect, their specialty _was_ infiltration. The possibilities were endless.

Ironhide's front left tire struck a small pothole in the road, sending the contents of the blue tarp in his trailer clattering around. It barely mattered at this point if the Twins had been innocent or were guilty of war crimes. One of them had been robbed of his spark and a long life filled with promise. Even a 'bot with a spark chamber as tough as Ironhide realized the gravity of that simple fact.

* * *

-

The _Daedalus _was big.

It was hard to appreciate that fact when you spent most of your time inside the ship, or getting beamed onto it, or going through an airlock. Sheppard didn't often fly up to it in a small ship like a Puddlejumper. Last time had been when the _Daedalus_ scooped them up after a mission with the bad guys, and it surprised him each time. Or maybe he was just thinking about that now, since he was about to target the modified F-303's Asgard weapons in a cloaked Ancient ship a tiny fraction of its size.

Kind of like standing around the Autobots. He'd thought Ronon was a big guy until he'd had the honour of meeting Optimus Prime. In comparison to the _Daedalus_, Sheppard was about the size of a bumblebee.

_Well, this bee's got one hell of a sting_. The colonel tapped a few commands into the jumper's interface and locked on to the massive cannons that were currently blasting away at the Compound.

Rodney was probably yelling at him from the surface. If Dr. Keller were around, she probably would be, too. His leg still hurt from the gash that was starting to clot (probably infected, too), and he was starting to think he might have a concussion because the controls of the Puddlejumper were sluggish. At the very least, they were working, which he couldn't say the same about the F-302s he passed on his way through orbit.

Though he couldn't communicate with the pilots of the dead-in-the-water fighters, he had a feeling they were still alive. They had enough air to last about three hours even without life support systems online. Three hours was way more than enough time for a friendly fire intervention.

"_Daedalus_, this is Lieutenant Colonel John Sheppard, requesting that you _stop_ firing on our home base, if it's not too much trouble. I doubt you guys can hear me, if if you can, it'd be a good idea for all personnel near the Asgard beam emitters to kindly move away so I can give General O'Neil a good reason to court martial me."

It was worth a try. The people on board might not even be alive, and that thought pissed him off. Caldwell might not be his favourite superior officer, but he and everyone else manning the _Daedalus_ were good people.

"Here goes nothing," he said to no one in particular, and release two drone simultaneously. His jumper came out of cloak the moment he did, and before the yellow, glowing instruments of doom could hit their targets, the _Daedalus_ turned its rail guns on him. "Oh, crap."

His mind already had the Puddlejumper on the move, spinning into an evasive maneuver that barely managed to save the cylindrical spaceship from being ripped apart. Heated rounds shot past his view screen as Sheppard drove the jumper straight down, diving for cover underneath the much larger ship's belly. It was the only place he could think of that the rail guns wouldn't reach and he wouldn't get caught up in the explosion he just unleashed.

A few seconds later, his sensors confirmed the destruction of the Asgard emitters. Two perfect shots, two hits, and the beams stopped firing. He couldn't see what was happening behind him or hear the explosion, but relief that the Compound would be saved rushed through his body. That good, nostalgic feeling of victory only lasted about five seconds, when the Puddlejumper emerged on the other side of the _Daedalus_.

"This...can't be good." His habit of talking to himself when faced with mortal peril didn't even sum up what he saw.

Optimus Prime was big. The robot floating in orbit about three miles away was bigger. Much bigger.

The alien Cybertronian looked nothing like the Decepticons or Autobots he had the pleasure of meeting; it was all silvery and gray and had characteristically red eyes, trademarking its allegiance to the good robot's enemies. One arm was outstretched towards the _Daedalus,_ hundreds of tiny tendril-like cords sprouting from its strangely shaped hand. Those tendrils branched out and penetrated the hull of the human intergalactic ship in the way a steak knife cut through cardboard. Slowly, as though just realizing that it wasn't alone, the (apparent) Decepticon turned to face the Ancient ship and its sole occupant.

"I should of figured one of you guys was behind this," Sheppard growled to himself. He didn't think twice—just reacted. A single drone shot out from the bay inside the jumper's drive pods and narrowed in on the enormous Decepticon's elevated hand. It raised its other arm, fixed with a cannon of some sort, and fired on him. The missile streaked past the brightly glowing drone as it spun rapidly towards its target and missed Sheppard completely. On the other hand, Sheppard's missile erupted in a short burst of orange and white, silently showering pieces of broken cable, metal shards and whatever else remained of the Decepticon's appendage in every direction. The _Daedalus _was free.

_Now would be a good time to leave._ With that thought, the Puddlejumper began to turn away from the damaged Decepticon as fast as its pods would go. Sheppard knew it would be too slow. He knew, but he had to try anyway. Getting out of this alive was only a perk at this point; he had accomplished what he came here for, and even an idiot could tell he was no match for a killer robot that size. Especially not one he had just _royally_ pissed off.

Luckily, the _Daedalus _was.

His Decepticon buddy was just locking on to the jumper a second time after recovering from the drone's massive explosion. Two and a half more seconds, and there would have been pieces of Sheppard and his ship burning up in Earth's atmosphere a few minutes later. Like a monster being awoken from a deep sleep, the _Daedalus_ rotated around to bring its many rail guns in range of its unfortunate target.

Soundwave was riddled with well-aimed rounds from six different turrets at once. Armour-piercing bullets, designed to rip apart enemy ships, shredded him into shattered circuits. The last thing that flashed by his visual receptors, mere moments before he transmitted his final report to Megatron and his other fellow Decepticons, was a bright yellow light.

What was left of him floated lifelessly through space a minute after the drone impacted his body.

Sheppard watched the debris slowly drift by, taken aback by how easily it was destroyed. Not all of these Cybertronian guys were like this, were they? He'd only seen a glimpse of the Decepticons that the Twins destroyed back at Smoke Hole, but watching one get taken down by some rail guns and a few drones was a little unreal. Until now, he'd even been a little afraid of these Decepticon bastards. It was hard to remember what that felt like.

_"Colonel Sheppard, this is Colonel Caldwell of the _Daedalus. _Thanks for the help. You're fired."_

A grin cracked the corners of Sheppard's lips. "Nice to hear your voice again, Colonel. We really have to stop running into each other like this. People will start to suspect."

"_You won't keep that smart-alec attitude when General O'Neil decides to court martial you. Your actions were reckless; you could have destroyed this ship by firing on our weapons."_

"To be honest, I don't remember going against anyone's orders, sir," the colonel defended himself, bringing the jumper around to face the comforting sight of the _Daedalus_ in all of its glory.

"_Just remember, if it hadn't been for _my_ ship, that thing would have sliced _your_ ship in two. That said, how are things on the surface?"_

"Well, last I checked, pretty good. I doubt the shields around the main Compound buildings went down that quickly. Long-range communications should be coming back up in a few seconds. I think blowing up the Decepticon released some sort of weird residual energy that's interfering with some of the jumper's systems. I don't suppose you feel like scooping me up so I can use the bathroom."

"_Sure thing, Colonel. It's not like we have a planet to protect or a lot of weapons systems to repair. Permission to come aboard granted."_

Ever since he had met the commander of the _Daedalus _years ago, Caldwell's idea of banter had gotten a lot better. Seeing how much he had been through with Sheppard and his team, it wasn't a surprise. Somehow, as Sheppard waited for his pick-up, his mind wandered away from the adrenaline-fueled present and towards Lennox and the Autobots on the surface. Experience with life and death defined the way you thought of someone, and despite the fact that he hadn't faced that many situations with the strange NEST characters, it was a comforting thought. As if he had something extraordinary to look forward to.

And let's face it. Giant talking robots were _cool_.

His leg twinged as he tried to lean back in his seat. All right—most of them.

* * *

-

It could have taken hours for Optimus to return to the Compound base, but with the _Daedalus_ checking out to be unharmed (other than the Asgard emitters), the reunion came much sooner when the crew of the liberated spaceship was able to beam him, Ironhide, and their precious cargo back into high security grounds. Ratchet met them outside, having left a spent Trailbreaker to recover from the drain of powering the shielding device. The medical officer read his commander's stance as well as humans read human facial expressions. He might have summoned something to say when Major Lennox, a partially bandaged Sheppard and an attachment of rigid, uniformed officers rolled up on a pair of armoured jeeps.

"Welcome back, Optimus," the NEST leader greeted, stepping down from the vehicle. "Sorry you missed all the excitement. These guys will escort Ironhide and...and your findings back to the CAR for safe storage, while we try to fill you in."

After two years, it went without saying that military escort for all Cybertronian 'remains' was a non-negotiable factor in their alliance. Even as they stood here now, there remained a small team of experts in the Smoke Hole region to pick up anything they might have missed. The United States government did not want a few archaeologists or treasure hunters going to the media with the 'alien technology' they found while scouring the bottom of the popular gorge.

Thirty seconds into Lennox's explanation of the events that had unfolded with the _Daedalus_, and Optimus sighed in the way Autobots did. "Soundwave. Another supposed casualty of Cybertron back from the dead." Many Decepticons once believed to have perished during the war were turning up. Just how long had Soundwave been listening to them from orbit, hacking Earth's satellites and tracking their movements?

Briefly, an irrational part of him hoped that their evident leak had something to do with the now deceased Decepticon's actions, but his logic shut that idea down.

"Major, it would be better to leave the details for the debriefing session later," he told Lennox, watching Ironhide's terrestrial form vanish into the dimly lit interior of the Autobot residence. "I must speak with one of my officers about our situation."

"Fair enough," came the reply. Lennox raised a hand and signaled his men in the second jeep to follow Ironhide into the CAR and climbed back into the passenger side of his own transport. "Just so you know, when we--"

"Optimus! Ratchet!"

When Sam screamed as loud as his respiratory system would allow, it was fair to say that he could be heard for a solid mile away. Many pairs of eyes (and optics) turned to the wide-open entrance to the CAR building, where the college student himself came streaking toward the gathering as though he was being pursued by a Decepticon. The soldiers guarding the hangar made a grab for him and started to chase the boy when they missed, seeing as they were under strict orders to not allow either of the kids to leave without an escort.

Sam was wheezing for breath when he finally reeled to a stop ten feet away from the jeep. Three of Lennox's men approached him cautiously, but the major waved them down. Pale as a ghost, streaked with sweat and eyes bloodshot, Sam lifted his head to look up at Optimus' face. "Please...you have to...help him. Figured...I figured something out...it's not Storm Jet, it's..." He started to cough.

Optimus began to worry. When he left the Compound, Sam had seemed dazed if not detached, but his sickly appearance now was extremely disturbing. "Slow down, Sam," he cautioned. "Tell me what happened."

Five tense seconds passed where the Witwicky kid inhaled and exhaled long enough to regain his composure. "No, no, you don't understand...what I saw, it's not...I don't know what it is, but it's all over him. It's all over Bee, millions and millions of tiny...things, dammit, I don't know what to call them!"

The hairs on the back of Sheppard's neck began to prickle. No, it couldn't be...there was just no way the galaxy sucked that much.

"I detected nothing out of the ordinary while scanning Bumblebee during his repair session," Ratchet disputed. "Are you saying he has become infected with a parasite?"

"Okay, you've got to listen to me carefully, 'cause this is what happened...I put my hand on Bee, and I saw them. Millions, possibly _billions_ of microscopic...miniature robots, talking to each other, just talking, and talking, and talking. I couldn't understand it, I just knew they were after Bumblebee, and they might even be on _me_ now. Just, just..." Sam's lips moved for a few more moments silently, and he looked around without quite focusing on anything. Then he keeled over.

Six of the seven minds present could not fathom what had just been revealed to them, as soldiers rushed to pick the unconscious kid off the ground. But Sheppard was already in stage four out of the five stages of 'what to feel when bad things happen'. Now he was _so_ damned tired. "Replicators."

Wraith, hybrids, Decepticons, and now Replicators.

McKay was going to love this.

* * *

-


	19. Double Mistake

**_Same Side_**

**_---_**

AN: Try to figure this one out...

* * *

-

_Chapter Nineteen: Double Mistake_

-

"Okay...Wraith. Hybrids. Decepticons. Replicators. Wraith. Hybrids. Decepticons. Replicators." There was a certain lack of tension in the air as McKay paced back and forth beside the long, black table in the loft. "Wraith...Decepticons...Replicators, and...Hybrids."

"Donkey Kong, Chucky Cheese, Clint Eastwood, E.T..." Sheppard sat with his arms folded across his chest, leaning back in his seat as he grew more and more bored by the second. Ronon sat next to him, head bowed, elbows propped on the table and fingers laced together. Teyla and Sergeant Epps were present as well, the former looking patient if not exhausted and the latter slowly spinning a pencil around on its rubber eraser. Even Lennox, the last occupant of the otherwise vacant room was starting to wane in the attention department. Sheppard's eyes flickered towards McKay. "What? Am I getting colder?"

"You are seriously not helping, Sheppard," Rodney snapped back. "What the—why am I the only one about to have an anurism trying to figure out the connection here? Did I miss the meeting where we all decided to give up and let our insurmountable enemies who just keep multiplying by the _second_ take over the planet?"

"No. The rest of us are just normal people and like to think inside our heads," Lennox replied, beating Sheppard to it. Ronon snickered.

"Simmer down, ladies," said a voice from the door to the briefing room. General O'Neil stepped inside, dressed in a crisp new uniform with nothing in his hands. "I haven't even had my coffee yet. That's saying a lot, because I normally don't drink coffee."

"We were just--"

"And you, Lieutenant Colonel I-Don't-Need-Orders-Because-I'm-Cool, just make me wish I had fired you the _last_ three times I promised to do exactly that. Except the Oversight Advisory won't _let_ me. Anyone else here who wants to have his or her own court martial, raise their hand." The general partially raised his right arm and looked around the table, as if searching for volunteers. "No? Dang."

"I take it we're starting the meeting without Optimus?" asked Lennox.

"He's doing his own thing, so to speak." O'Neil glanced over their heads with a slight frown. "Said something about talking to one of his subordinates. Or a turkey sandwich. I was on my cell phone, see, with the President and I couldn't hear a whole lot over the helicopter, so..." He trailed off and cleared his throat. "Anyway, Dr. McKay, why don't you start this off by telling us what you found with the Replicator infection?"

The astrophysicist, who had taken a seat across from Ronon, had the kind of look on his face that Sheppard knew too well—the look he got when he knew too little about something and was trying desperately to find ways to make excuses for it. Good old McKay. "It's not so much what I _found_ than what I didn't find, actually," Rodney said dourly. "First off, these are not Pegasus Galaxy Replicators; in fact, they're barely even Milky Way Replicators. They obviously have the same basic programming as the more advanced-type nanites that were used to construct Replicator ships, but they've been so incredibly modified to a point—or should I say evolved—that I can only guess at what they were meant to do. The weirdest part is, I can't even identify the language most of the coding is written in."

Most of this McKay had already told Sheppard before the briefing began, and even though he didn't understand ninety-nine percent of it, he got the feeling that it _still_ meant Rodney had no idea what he was doing.

"That doesn't answer the question of why they're all over Bumblebee or whether or not they're dangerous," Lennox observed with a hint of ire.

"They're _Replicators._ It's not a far stretch to say they're _not_ there to give him a massage." Once again, Rodney's sarcasm was in overdrive and Sheppard made a mental note to give his teammate a good slap if he kept up the attitude. "Optimus said they hadn't actually infected anything past the superficial structure of the Autobot, which is the good news. The bad news is, I haven't...exactly figured out how to shut them off."

"So, what..you're just going to lock him up until you do?" Ronon finally lifted his head to indicate that he hadn't fallen asleep.

"Well, I'm no expert on Replicators or anything..." General O'Neil cut into the conversation tactfully. "But since they _replicate_ and all, keeping them isolated somewhere they can't take over the planet is generally a good idea."

"But that's not all." Out of nowhere, McKay's tone of voice changed dramatically to something that could have been both excited and baffled. "Our on-site scanners can only detect a certain degree of the type of radiation Replicators give off. It's why we haven't detected them until now—they're so completely unlike the nanites we've come across so far, that they're pretty much a brand new kind of Replicator. Anyway, now that we know this, we were able to incorporate the new data into the scans we performed on all of the other Autobots."

"You said none of the others were infected," said Sheppard.

"They're not. None the the _living_ ones, that is."

The silence that followed thereafter could not have been more eerie if it had been in a graveyard filled with ghosts. Everyone but Rodney stared at him with openly surprised expressions, less so for Ronon and O'Neil. Finally, Major Lennox spoke with no effort to hide his skepticism. "Skids was infected?"

"Warmer, but still no. Those parts Optimus and Ironhide brought back with them? They're made with Replicators. They're fake."

"He's _alive_?" Lennox shot forward in his chair, unable to keep the anger out of his voice. Why hadn't anyone told him sooner? Leaving an Autobot out there was just like leaving a soldier behind in enemy territory. Had they come _all_ the way back here just to let one of their own get kidnapped?

"What? I don't know...maybe? The odds are pretty high, unless duplicating the twisted remains of their autonomous friends with alien technology is a favourite _pastime_ of the Autobots."

Sheppard and Lennox stood up at the table simultaneously, to which O'Neil raised an eyebrow. "And where exactly might you boys be going?"

"Someone has to tell Optimus that his man...Autobot might still be alive," the colonel explained, as though it were obvious. "Hell, if it was one of my team, I'd be damn pissed if I missed the memo about a chance I could save them."

"That pretty much sums it up," Lennox added.

"What is this, a Girl Scouts meeting? Sit down, the both of you!" snapped General O'Neil with a furled expression. After a paused, he said, "Teyla. Dearest, if you would be so kind as to deliver our robot buddies the good news, so my associates here don't soil themselves trying to escape."

A warm smile spread across the Athosian's well-tanned face and she pushed back her chair. "Of course, General. What should I tell them should the inquire about Bumblebee's condition?"

McKay snorted. "The truth? We can't let anyone without the proper protective gear anywhere near him until we're _absolutely_ certain the Replicators he's infected with can be dealt with. Luckily, they haven't spread to anyone else, but that's not saying they aren't capable of it."

Slowly, Teyla turned her head to look at first O'Neil, then her team leader, who had sat down again and returned the exchange with a glance. "What Rodney said," he confirmed. Almost as soon as he said it, a thought struck him. He fixed an expression on McKay. "Speaking of which, if you don't mind me going a little off-topic, General...did you ever find that research you lost, Rodney?"

In response, Rodney's eyes drooped a little with evident antagonism. He sighed heavily. "No, no I didn't, actually. Thanks for bringing that up _now_, of all t--" Suddenly, his eyes bulged and he snapped his fingers a few times during one of his 'I just figured it out' moments. "That's it! Geez, why didn't I figure this out sooner?"

Now O'Neil's brow arched. He clutched his hands in front of hims expectantly while Teyla stole out of the briefing room. "We're dying with anticipation."

"Don't you get it? My Autoshield prototype, all of the schematics that explained how it worked, its power requirements, modification blueprints—_everything_ that went missing explains why _that _Replicator junk pile isn't our missing Autobot friend. Well, not in a direct way, but it at least tells us how he could have _survived_ the fall that would have otherwise...you know..."

Sheppard stared at him blankly, returning to his reclined position with his arms crossed. "So the Replicators...stole your experiment, and when they were done pushing Skids off a cliff, they...faked his death? You know, I'd call that a hobby," he said, raising a finger. "I can't exactly picture Oberoth playing tennis. And would you _please_ stop calling it an 'Autoshield'?"

"I don't think he's talking about the Replicators." Lennox caught on quick, being the first person in the meeting to have even a fraction of an idea about how Autobots' minds worked. "If the shield device somehow got into Storm Jet's hands, he could have planted it on Skids before he dropped him into the gorge. And that raises a whole new question."

"Like why a 'bot that wants to ride the Decepticon train would bother saving the Twin's life, or maybe like why he bothered doing it in the first place." Epps sounded convicted to the idea that the former Autobot couldn't be trusted. "To prove to Starscream he's switching for real? He coulda done that to any one of the Autobots. Hell, he almost did it to Bumblebee."

"What we have here is a big alien robot with an agenda of his own," O'Neil cut in, bringing the attention back to the front of the table. "Okay, so that could be a problem in a sea of royal screw-ups. Let's just put this Replicator thing aside for a moment and try to deal with our first problem. Or two."

Sheppard unconsciously scratched at the fresh bandages on his thigh, thinking about the encounter with Soundwave. If the Wraith saw how easily the Decepticons could be beaten in space combat, their big invasion plans might have hit a dead end. Then again, there was no reason they weren't capable of sending down a few thousand Wraith troops of their own and wreaking public havoc across the planet. So why didn't they?

"Let's assume the Wraith are very pissed off about us foiling their grand theft spaceship plan," O'Neil continued. "Yet they're not here trying to _eat_ us. Explanation?"

"They're either waiting for something, or there's something scaring them off," offered Lennox. "Hopefully the Decepticons broke off the alliance when Colonel Sheppard blew up Soundwave in orbit."

"Yes, that's what we were taught do back in the days...and days and days of Air Force training. Hope. Any other bright ideas?"

"Judging by the fact that they haven't called us back is a strong indication that they're pissed, yes," said Sheppard. "But I'm a little bit more worried about why the hybrid Hive ship isn't even in our solar system. The Wraith at least we can predict; they're hungry, so they come feed on us after threatening total annihilation and promising to savour our defiance. Micheal's hybrids just want to destroy everything that isn't them."

"At this point, it's safe to say that Michael isn't in charge of these hybrids, Colonel." McKay rolled his eyes as he spoke.

"What makes you say that?"

"Other than the fact that he's _dead_? I'm no psychologist, in fact it's quite fair to say that I'm the furthest thing from that, but Michael struck me as the kind of guy who jumps at the first opportunity to gloat face-to-face with his enemies. I mean, he likes to _talk_. He's probably the whiniest bad guy we've ever had to deal with with...unless, of course, Lucius counted as a bad guy."

Ronon slowly rolled his head over to look at Sheppard quizzically. "Does McKay count as a bad guy?"

"Okay, this is ridiculous," the astrophysicist announced, standing up. "I've said my input; why don't you call me when you actually need my brilliance, which could otherwise be doing more important--"

The door to the briefing room burst open and a young engineer appeared on the other side, panting slightly. "General O'Neil, two Wraith cruisers just jumped into Earth orbit."

O'Neil turned to face him and made a 'go on' gesture. "_And_?"

"They're assembling a fleet of darts. Some have already started to enter the atmosphere."

At once, the rest of the Compound Alliance team jumped out of their chairs, while McKay looked around with a bewildered expression, the second half of his sentence still stuck in his throat.

"What's their heading? Does anyone know what they're targeting?" the general wanted to know loudly, as the group filed down the aluminum staircase and down to the main building's floor. Many of the technicians that filled the communications center and Stargate controls had returned to their off-and-on state of chaos while the airman informant, Maryland, paced beside O'Neil at a birsk pace.

"A group of eight darts entered the stratosphere above north-western United States three minutes ago. NORAD dispatched a squadron of F-302s to intercept them before they reach their destination. We assume they're targeting Cheyenne Mountain or one of the major cities on the northern Atlantic coast."

"The _Daedalus' _shields are less than thirty percent!" yelled a technician.

"Oh God. That was their plan all along. They _knew_ we'd cripple our own ship before handing over Sheppard or Optimus and we just handed Earth over on a silver platter. And _now_ I understand why the _Daedalus_' shields were down when Sheppard fired the drone!" McKay, whether he knew it or not, was essentially talking to himself. In the back of John's head, it made sense. No use in worrying about it now.

"Somebody get me the Secretary of Defense on the phone!" O'Neil yelled above the clamour. He stopped suddenly to look at Colonel Sheppard. "Now would be a good time to get you and your team ready for deployment, Lieutenant Colonel. If we don't contain this, there's going to be enemy foot soldiers crawling all over the place."

"Sir, another group of enemy fighters has broken away from the battle with the _Daedalus_ and has entered orbit," Maryland explained quickly. "They're heading straight towards us. We can't intercept them before they reach critical distance."

"I doubt they're making suicide runs at this stage," Sheppard advised. "They're probably getting ready to deply ground troops. We need to get our guys in the air and shoot as many darts down before they do that, on time or not...I don't think we have an army at this base, do we?"

"About as many people as there are on the _Daedalus_," said O'Neil as his telephone finally arrived. The remainder of the Alliance group exchanged glances as the head of Homeworld Security became perpetually occupied.

"Looks like some of us will get up and personal with the Wraith for the first time," said Sheppard. "Lennox, grab whatever C4 you can from the armory and meet as at the CAR building. If there are Decepticons involved, they'll probably take a shot at the kid again. There's an arms station inside the Autobot's residence. Ronon, with me."

As usual, the need for verbal confirmation was not a luxury. Sheppard took off towards the energy barrier that marked the entrance to Compound 1 with Ronon, blaster in hand, sprinted after him. The leader of SG7, Major Hester and one of the few Stargate military majors with Atlantis experience under his belt, signalled for his team to follow Sheppard. Lennox and Epps started off in the opposite direction.

There was no accounting for reason when it came to his counterpart's impromptu strategies, but the NEST commander figured if he was asking for C4, he was planning on getting close-up and personal with their enemies themselves. Either that, or he'd lost his mind. Atlantis was a nest of its own, filled with logic-defying individuals with questionable death wishes.

At the very least, if they lost this round to the attacking Wraith and got exposed to the public, nothing would save the world from a catastrophic meltdown.

* * *

-

Grappling with his moral system, Optimus left Ironhide at the CAR entrance shortly after the human vessel in orbit transported them down and Sam had returned to his quarters to recharge. The boy had been a wreckage in a way only an organic could manage, adding to the Prime's uneasy feeling that had been mounting since the encounter in the junk yard with Storm Jet. Sam Witwicky contained the knowledge of the Allspark, more than a few stray fragments of ancient history and science. Their long-lost relic, the key to all life on Cybertron had been able to adapt to Sam's more basic communications understanding, interfacing in a way that made it possible to warn them all about...something. Another race of what humans would call 'machines', microscopic ones that seemingly warred with their race many times in the past. Beyond that, he knew little else other than Bumblebee's unfortunate infection, an issue that was being dealt with by experts in Replicator technology. Optimus decided he would personally oversee the young Autobot's dilemma once he finished with Mudflap.

The surviving Twin was outside, in his alternate vehicular mode. He had neglected to wash the debris and dust from his circuits during the short time since his brother's demise. Although Optimus had not seen him since the incident, he took careful note that he was still damaged and leaking a trace amounts of Energon—something not perceivable to the human eye. The silent Prime approached his subordinate.

"Mudflap," he addressed him rigidly. "Transform and turn to face me."

Slowly, the red Autobot did as he was instructed. The much smaller 'bot failed to look up at his commander.

Optimus peered down at him. "Understand, Autobot. There are times I must choose to be either a leader, or a friend. Unfortunately, there are also times when that choice is not mine."

"...was 'sposed to...came all 'way with my brotha...but you didn' listen up, Optimus. No you didn..." It was hard to say if the lost Twin's vocal processors were malfunctioning, or if he honestly did not care if he spoke out loud or addressed Optimus directly. Mudflap's aimless fragment of a conversation continued. "'Cause you got scared...we did wha's right, an' my brotha's got deep sixed..."

"I listened to your report on Megatron's movements on Cybertron when I was able," Optimus assured him, knowing the truth. "I am sorry if you feel that you were not commended for trying to warn us, Mudflap. You performed admirably, as did your brother before he lost his spark."

The Twin flinched. This was like rending new gouges in freshly welded scars, but it had to be done. "What I need from you now is the truth, Mudflap. If there is anything you feel you should tell me, know that I will not punish honesty, or good intention."

"No, you ain't listenin' t'me, Opti-puss, 'cause you is scared," the rebellious Autobot shot back, jerking a hand towards the Prime. "Once upon a tahm, there was dis spark. Dis spark was special, 'douh. It was meant fo two brothas. Right when dat spark split up, dey always had dis one connection, dis one spark nobody could mess up. Dat ain't there no mo. You want some honest-tea? You want da whole truth, sa? Here it is: you jes' wasted yo tahm talkin' to a ghost."

Optimus was confused and surprised. It was unlike either of the Twins to say so much at once with so much meaning; this was a level of maturity he and his fellow Autobots had wanted to see in the brothers, but in the face of the recent tragedy, did it truly mean that it took one twin's death to make the other wiser? Was this what was in store for all of their future generations?

He did not even feel inclined to reprimand Mudflap for being so disrespectful. Instead, the much larger Autobot bowed his head gravely and began to speak with every intention of being as blatant as possible. "I then have no choice but to believe that you and Skids--"

A klaxon went off on the other side of the CAR. In the dimming light of the approaching dusk, floodlights suddenly flashed open and washed over the compound grounds. The illumination struck the Autobots just as Ratchet came driving towards them from around the corner of the building. Sensors on full alert, Optimus addressed his medical officer over the steady beat of the security alarm. "Ratchet, what is happening?"

He received a brief, negative transmission from his oldest friend. They were equal in knowledge of the abrupt turn of events. It was then a human female opened the passenger-side door of Ratchet's vehicular mode and jumped onto the ground: Teyla Emmagen, one of Lieutenant Colonel Sheppard's closest comrades, and one he had only met for a brief time before.

"I wish I could bear this news under better circumstances," Teyla spoke with purpose. Optimus evaluated the stress level in her tone of voice and grew certain that the upset in the Compound was in fact, dire. The young woman paced towards them briskly, coming as far as ten meters before halting to look up at the leader of the Autobots. "Dr. McKay and his team have discovered that the remains of the Autobot you found are not real. They are Replicators, which means your comrade may still be alive. And now, the Wraith are attacking this base from orbit. Colonel Sheppard wants us to mobilize outside to defend the Stargate from intruders."

Optimus was well-equipped with centuries of experience, but there were not many instances in his vast memory database where a deceased comrade was pronounced alive. Including Trailbreaker's unexpected return to the galaxy, this was only the second in a long, long lifetime. Had he not just been informed of the life-threatening situation at hand, he might have been inclined to rejoice. As it was, Optimus was far too wise to be so overwhelmed that he did not realize that a great seige had just begun, and that he had made a grave error in judgment.

He made a decision. "Teyla Emmagen, my infiltration specialist Mudflap will take you to rejoin the team at Compound 1. Inform Colonel Sheppard and Major Lennox that I will be there shortly, once I question the true betrayer of our cause."

Her startled expression was lost on him as the Prime stepped back to transform into his terrestrial form. The engine of his native Earth roared briefly just before he tore through the dirt and across the pavement of the Compound's vast and vacant lot. Ratchet accelerated after his commanding officer without a moment's hesitation.

Teyla shook off her daze, remembering Sheppard's strict orders over he radio to return as swiftly as possible. She looked at the Autobot in front of her sternly. "We must hurry. The first wave of darts will reach here soon."

Mudflap was staring at nothing vacantly.

"John and the others need as much help as can be spared," Teyla said, with more force. "Mudflap, I know it is hard to believe that your brother may still be alive, but we do not have time to dwell on it. We have to fight."

The red Twin blinked his strangely-shaped eyes and then slowly focused them on her. He then raised his undamaged appendage, confusing her even further. One second before she realized his intentions, Mudflap charged the gatling cannon on his arm and fired on her.

* * *

-

TBC


	20. The Apparent Trap

**_Same Side_**

**_---  
_**

AN: Just so you're not in suspense...things really don't get better this chapter. Sorry. Oh, and...

No cows were harmed in the making of this chapter.

Feel better already, don't you?

* * *

-

_Chapter Twenty: The Apparent Trap_

-

Teyla had less than a moment to react before the glowing hot bullets left the barrel of the Autobot's weapons. Swallowed by her ally's sudden violent reaction in a swift, drawn-out movement that seemed to take full minutes, she threw herself on the ground as something hot and painful whizzed past her ear. Warm blood trickled down from where the round left a sizeable gash in her cheek.

Wasting no time, the Athosian rolled over and sprang to her feet, taking cover on the other side of a parked vehicle called a 'Jeep'. Bullets ripped into the concrete wall behind her head, sending showers of rubble crumbling down onto her head. When there was a break between deafening weapons' fire, she called out.

"Mudflap, I am not your enemy! Please, stop shooting! We are allies!"

If her voice was heard, it had little effect. Over the edge of the roofless military vehicle, she witnessed the red Autobot take a step towards her impromptu shelter. Despite the fact that it was only slightly smaller than him, Mudflap had no trouble wrapping an oversized hand around the roll bars and wrenching it out of the way. Like a discarded tin can, the jeep flipped over three times before skidding for several feet in a spray of bright yellow sparks.

Teyla stumbled to her hands and knees and was up again, slapping her hands on the metal door attached to the side of the CAR building. There was no handle on the outside, no latch or place to pull it open. The sound of heavy metal footsteps announced Mudflap's torpid attempt to give chase, and she clenched her hands into fists, pounding on the door with all her strength. "Open the door! Somebody, please, open the--"

The whine of a weapon charging up broke the last few words of her open plea. Teyla whipped around, coming face-to-face with the glowing end of barrel easily the size of her wrist. She closed her eyes and said a short prayer to her ancestors, preparing for the inevitable. She opened her eyelids again to face death.

Something loud and blinding exploded on the surface of Mudflap's chest plate. The red Twin reeled backward, discharging his weapon into the damaged jeep instead. With an injury that would normally make him break down and start complaining to anyone who would listen, he charged his high-caliber gun a second time and aimed it at the oncoming blue-and-red Peterbilt truck.

There were times when Teyla found she could not describe a sight to her Athosian family when she told the tales of her escapades with John's team. What she witnessed here was one of them. Optimus Prime transformed while in motion, taking the momentum with him—an arm appeared from the twisting, rearranging parts of the Autobot leader and clenched onto Mudflap's chest, just as the rest of Optimus took form and swung the Twin off his feet, slamming him against the wall of the CAR building. He stood with an energy cannon one meter from blowing the smaller Autobot's head clean off, and the other arm pinned him down. "Shut down your weapons, infiltrator," he demanded lowly.

Mudflap gave no snappy, insulting retort or made mention of the oil leaking from the hole in his chest. He raised his intact arm (the other still missing from the encounter with Sharpshot), and prepared to fire on his commander's face.

There was a loud, metal _crunch_ as Optimus changed his cannon back into a hand and closed it around the Twin's arm. The crumpled appendage dropped to Mudflap's side, crackling with blue energy.

"Ratchet," ordered Optimus gravely, addressing the Hummer H2 that had just caught up with his commanding officer. "Take Miss Emmagen to safety while I deal with this situation."

"Wait!"

Teyla's outcry took the Autobots by surprise. Covered in dust, bruised and scraped and still somewhat frightened, she moved closer to Optimus and held out a hand in a halting gesture. "Optimus, I know how this seems, but it is possible he is not in control of his actions. He may have also been affected the the Replicators, and we simply did not realize."

There was nothing logical about it. The stench of treason was overwhelming right now; it seemed as though Optimus was being betrayed on all sides of his former loyalties. And yet, of all the Autobots, Mudflap _had_ been the only one that had not been scanned for infection. The Twin's melancholy demeanor made it hard to approach him, and the airmen on base could not communicate with him before the young Autobot fled. Optimus's grip on his defiant officer's circuits loosened slightly as he fixed Skids' brother with a steely, blue gaze. "Recite your serial designation, Autobot," he said with a cautious tone.

After a tense second, a garbled, utterly unintelligible sound came from Mudflap's vocal processor. It was neither Cybertronian nor any of the human languages Optimus knew of. A surge of vehemence rushed through his synaptic sensors. Teyla Emmagen was indeed correct—this was no Decepticon trick or a childish prank. He had simply lost another one of his loyal officers. Another.

He carefully lowered the Twin to the ground, now that he was disarmed—in the literal sense, he realized with a jolting twist. It only took a second to realize that Mudflap had slipped into the primary state of stasis lock, a state that was more critical than a recharge cycle and not as serious as the tertiary stage of life-threatening damage; infected or clean, the Twin would not come back online until his body could stabilize the power drainage of his injuries that would inevitably consume his spark.

"No." At first, Optimus believed Ratchet had spoken it and prepared to question his medical officer on the nature of the statement. Then he realized that he had spoken it out loud. _No, he could not lose another._ It was possible that simply by touching the infected Twin, he too would soon fall victim to the undetectable nanites, their most formidable enemy yet. Before that came to pass, he had to bring this uprising to an end. "Ratchet. This may be the only time I order you to refrain from doing your duty. Under no circumstances are any more Autobots to touch either Bumblebee or Mudflap until the humans have declared them free of alien contaminants. Is that understood?"

Ratchet, who had since transformed into his native form, was appalled. "Prime, you can't possibly expect me to leave him like--"

"That is a direct order. Our allies will ensure he is kept safe within the quarantined area." There were familiar, buzzing screams of Wraith engines in the distance, promoting the arrival of their airborne enemies. "No matter why this came to pass, Mudflap deserves a trial to explain his actions. We are needed to repel the attacks from the Wraith vessels."

"_Teyla? Please respond. You're starting to scare me."_

She heard John's voice over the radio for the first time. If he had spoke to her before, she hadn't realized. Judging by the sounds of dart weapons and the rattling of P90s and other guns, the battle with the descending Wraith was just beginning. She touched the earpiece and said, "I'm here, John. There was a slight...misunderstanding. I will be on my way shortly."

"_No, we need you in the CAR, to help us keep the damn Wraith from getting to the kids. A dart just scooped up McNeil's team. Tell Optimus; they'll use any chance they got to kill Autobots who can't defend themselves."_

"We are needed at the CAR entrance," Teyla relayed with a sense of urgency. "The lives of everyone inside are at risk."

Leaving the offline Twin where he was slumped, the Athosian climbed into the cab of the Autobot commander once he was transformed. Overhead, more Wraith darts screeched by with their stunning projectiles cascading down on the battlefield outside Compound 1. With great reluctance, Ratchet turned to follow them into the fray of complete chaos.

* * *

"I'm only gonna say this one more time, Rodney. It'd be _damn_ swell if we could get another Autobot on our side." Sheppard's warning tone was punctuated by rapid weapon's fire, small explosions and various scattered squadrons barking orders. Airmen ran from one end of the scarred pavement to another, occasionally twisting around to take a shot at one of the darts as they whizzed by. Currently, Sheppard was hunkered down outside of the officers of the CAR building with Ronon, Lennox, Epps and McKay. The latter was finger-tapping the portable computer in his arm so hard that the sound of it was getting on the colonel's nerves.

"I'm obviously well aware of that, Colonel!" the astrophysicist snapped over the continuous sounds of battle. "I can't just push a magic button and turn these things off! They're Replicators, and need I remind you yet again that they're base code is written in a language I can't even understand!"

"So figure it out," Ronon said ruthlessly. He suddenly sprung upwards and fired his blaster several times at a couple of Wraith soldiers who had slipped into the building. The defense barrier had been shot to pieces by a couple of lucky darts, doing nothing to stop the invasion of the Autobot's residence.

Sheppard fired a dozen rounds into the chest of another Wraith and ducked back down behind the overturned metal table that kept them hidden from view. "We can't do anything until we shut those Replicators off, McKay. The last thing we need is an Autobot going rogue on us when we're fighting Wraith."

The problem was, they couldn't let Bumblebee out of the quarantined section of the hangar and out of his restraints until they were sure he wasn't going to turn on them. Of course, the intel that the Replicators were even hostile was based on some panicky college kid's ability to read mysterious bits of information through an alien know-it-all device that supposedly no longer existed, but if the Autobots thought it meant something, it wasn't worth the risk to go against it. Trailbreaker was exhausted by the drainage he underwent from keeping the CAR shields intact during the _Daedalus_ incident. He was their first line of defense, but it didn't take a trained eye to see that the big blue Autobot was barely standing. His shots went wild of their targets and the Wraith stunner blasts that struck his armour were slowing him down even more.

"_Colonel, we are on our way,_" said Teyla over his radio. John Sheppard acknowledged, wishing he'd heard that sooner. Something was going on with Optimus and since he couldn't see Mudflap anywhere nearby, his best guess was that it had something to do with the other Autobot.

"McKay, we could really use that extra help right about now," he informed his astrophysicist friend, just to get his blood boiling. Fact: McKay was a genius _and_ a whiner. Fact: McKay worked faster when he was either in a lot of trouble, or very pissed off.

"Fine, you want results? Then _you_ do it. No? I didn't think so. Anyone else? No one? Huh, I guess that leaves..._me._"

Really, _really_ pissed off.

"Major, if we keep holding them here, they're eventually gonna come through another way, sir," Sergeant Epps told his commanding officer, emptying the last two dozen rounds in the clip currently inside his P90. Only one of the Wraith soldiers charging at them went down, while the other cleverly took cover behind the wreckage of the security gate. "I don't think Trailbreaker's gonna last much longer, either."

"Optimus and Ratchet are on their way," Sheppard supplied, knowing that neither the NEST members had been able to find a spare radio in the armory. "So is Teyla, if that makes you feel any better—crap!" He just barely hunkered down behind the barricade before a flurry of blue stun bolts slammed into the wall behind him. "Okay, that was careless."

"I got it!" exclaimed McKay.

"You deciphered the nanite code?" Lennox wanted to know, desperate for even the slightest tidbit of good news.

The scientist cringed as a Wraith shot the table behind his head—Ronon shot the attacker dead, as he said, "No, no, not really. But my global positioning macro which I've been setting over every three minutes for the past twelve hours just got a hit."

"What the hell does this have to do with the Replicators?" Sheppard snapped, starting to lose his patience.

"Would you let me finish? It's a program I wrote to locate the unique energy signature emitted by the Autoshield device I invented—well, not invented, but altered—and it just pinged. And guess what? The prototype is in Smoke Hole Canyon, just like I predicted."

"As good as it is to hear more evidence supporting the possibility that Skids is still alive," Lennox concurred with the colonel, hastily plugging one of his last ammunition clips into his P90. "Not seeing how it helps our current predicament, Dr. McKay."

"You wanted another Autobot on our team? I just forwarded the coordinates and tracking signature of the Autoshield to the _Daedalus_. All they have to do is quickly jump back into orbit, beam him up, beam him _down_ and then jump away again."

Colonel Sheppard slowly lowered himself to Rodney's level to deliver a long, serious look into the eyes of his smartest (and yet somehow not that smart) friend. "Assuming Skids is still alive, McKay, that's a hell of a big risk for the _Daedalus_ to take based on your wild presumption that your shield thingamajig--" He raised himself six inches or so and ripped open the body of his seventh Wraith with the P90 in his hands, before lowering again, "That this _thing_ kept the Autobot alive and the slight chance it's still with him."

"Well let's weigh our options, shall we? Oh, wait, we can't—because we _have_ no other choice!"

"How much longer do you need to figure out the new Replicator code?"

"Six, seven months?"

"_Rodney_!"

"Look me in the eye, John!" McKay practically bellowed. "How often do I look at you and tell you _it's impossible_ and actually mean it? I can't read the damn code!"

"But I can."

Lennox almost lost his balance at the sound of Sam Witwicky's voice. The kid he'd locked in his own room had somehow ('somehow' being undoubtedly related to Leo) picked the lock and was now crouching behind the huddled group of the Alliance team. He looked a little better than he had before; he wasn't even frazzled in the slightest by the impending doom that hung in the air like a wet fog.

"What? What the hell is he doing here?" McKay turned around, still in his squatting position to give the kid a disapproving glare.

"I can read it. Maybe. I think I can try," Sam said quickly, speaking twice as fast as any normal person would. "See that? That's Cybertronian. Don't ask me how, I just know that's what it is. No, I can't translate it for you. But I have to try. Let me do something, please. I'm worried about Bumblebee."

"Yeah, well that's a nice sentiment, kiddo, but this is _incredibly_ advanced machine code that even I can barely--"

"McKay!" barked Sheppard. "Let the damn kid have a look!"

Subjugated, Rodney unhappily handed the portable computer to Sam Witwicky as the eighteen-year-old crouched next to him, eyes glued to the screen. Two seconds later, he jabbed a finger at one of the lines of code. "There. Right there. That symbol means 'begin process', but it's part of the Transformers most basic defense mechanisms; you have to switch this...and this..." He dragged his fingertip across the screen, indicating one part and another. "It's just a basic bi-linear command displacement subroutine; it should rearrange itself automatically if you run the old Replicator code and the new Replicator code side by side."

Rodney blanched. Not because he felt ill suddenly or because his blood sugar had dropped, but the kid was _right_. Most of the code he couldn't read was written on _top_ of the old Replicator base commands; all he had to do was delete and move it around to use an old-fashioned kill switch to shut down any new Replicators within broadcasting range. It was...absolutely magnificent. "H-How...did you...?"

Something exploded just outside the CAR. Pieces of the building's rafters and roof cascaded down all around them, causing the entire group to dive out of the way of being skewered; the hangar was going to collapse soon if the Wraith kept on punching it with their weapons. After a few seconds, the scattered members of the Alliance team plus one picked themselves up from the places they had taken cover. This was the second time they had to dodge falling debris. A large chunk of it had sliced right into the hard ground not ten feet away from their position. Hands trembling and startled back to reality, McKay hastily started to chisel away at the strings of altered code around the symbols on his computer, to absorbed with the new revelation to realize that there was something dark oozing onto the screen.

"D-Dr. McKay...?" Sam's voice wavered as he pointed to something on the scientist's vest. The tone in the kid's voice drew Sheppard's attention to the same spot, and he swore loudly.

"What now? Can't you see I'm bus..." McKay blinked. His vision was blurry. What the hell was this on his screen? Oil?

Oh, God. It was blood. It was _his _blood. "Oh shit," he whispered. Then came the horrible pain in his chest. The computer, slippery with the cooling liquid all over his left hand, slid out of his grasp and hit the cement.

"Rodney! _Rodney_!" It was like listening to Sheppard's voice through a tunnel. A long tunnel. Spotting something long and metal poking right through his jacket, four inches from his face...McKay smelled burnt metal and dirt just before his senses stopped altogether.

* * *

-

A tourist by the name of Fredrick Farley was out vacationing with his wife in Smoke Hole Canyon, hiking, camping and getting to know the 'good old outdoors', getting in touch with nature and trying to repair his mangled marriage so that he didn't have to pay a divorce lawyer to rescue him from Jenny. His wife was truly one of those stereotypical 'shoe fetish' women and his credit cards were screaming in pain. But that was the least of Fredrick's problems today.

After spending three days trekking through the bottom of the gorge and setting up camp in the world's most mosquito-infested, soggiest patches of dirt, Mr. Farley was incredibly sore, and incredibly sorry he had ever suggested coming here. That of course didn't stop Jenny from nagging him about not packing any marshmallows; of course, _she_ had been looking forward to roasting them over an open fire, but rather than pack a bunch of fluffy, gooey sugar snacks, Fred had chosen instead to bring insect repellent and deodorant. He was the son of the Devil, apparently.

On the third morning, he finally bought himself some alone time by claiming he was going to 'scout out' a safe trail along the dryer limestone shelves along the side of the river. It was the only way he was going to get a vacation from his vacation partner. Grabbing his camera, two Power Bars and a canteen of water, Mr. Farley set out from the campsite in search of a reason to continue living.

Fifteen minutes into the hike, his memory card was still empty. Coming to the bottom of a gorge where practically zero wildlife lived, and he'd remember to bring a camera. After taking the first three snapshots of the six-hundred-foot vertical walls, and one picture of Jenny when she slipped into a shallow part of the river, nothing seemed quite special enough to memorialize with digital pixels.

Until he came around the bend.

The first thing he saw was a rock. It was a big chunk of limestone twice the size of a Chevy, sitting in the middle of his path. A second later, he noticed the most bizarre thing he had even seen chained to the otherwise unremarkable boulder. He thought it was the wreckage of a car at first, standing upright against the rocks—but it had arms and legs. And a head.

And it looked at him. _Looked_ at him. The (robot, alien, top secret weapon, battle suit?) whatever-it-was jerked suddenly and twisted around to see the human tourist standing forty feet away. It blue glowing eyes blinked a few times and a voice uttered something that sounded like, "Uhhh..."

Fredrick was so utterly bewildered, that he dropped the camera—it bounced off a rock and landed with a 'sploosh' in the river. But he didn't care. Before the...the bright green _thing_ could make another move, Fred's legs and brain started to communicate again and he took off, scrambling in the direction he just came. His scream could be heard on the opposite end of the gorge; however, he wasn't screaming in terror. He was screaming at his wife to come and see what he had just discovered.

It was too bad that Mrs. Farley would arrive half an hour later, sore and bitter, only to find nothing there at all. Because a minute and a half after the disgruntled husband ran away, a bright white light washed over the green robot. And he vanished.

Two weeks later, Fredrick Farley hired a divorce lawyer.

* * *

-

TBC


	21. Bad Bots

_**Same Side**_

_**

* * *

  
**_

AN: I mention something that happened in one of the Stargate: Atlantis novels in this chapter. Dost thou be a true Stargate fan? You would know which one.

Does _anyone_ realize what's going on yet? No one? Am I just that good? (Alright, you can kick me for that one. Hubris bad.)

* * *

-

_Chapter Twenty-One: Bad Bots_

_-  
_

Somewhere between the realization that they were losing the quadruple-decker war and the thought of getting their asses kicked by a joint coalition of super bad guys from two galaxies, Sheppard found enough time to wonder if there was anything _else _that could go wrong tonight to make this week the official _worst_ week of his entire life.

Turns out, there was.

After getting stuck in an alien shielding device, being zapped by a black smoke monster, taken hostage by angry militants and tortured, stuck at the bottom of the ocean, pumped full of Wraith enzyme, blowing up a solar system (okay, five sixths), having his face and hands eaten by a deadly sandstorm, captured by the Wraith...God only knows how many times, struck by killer Ancient mojo, shot in the ass by an arrow, almost fed upon by a Wraith queen, captured again by rogue Asgards in battle suits, brought the edge of death by a parasite in his brain and _the damn list went on_, Rodney McKay was going to die from a half-inch piece of metal rebar.

Not that the world in general seemed to care, because despite the fact that his good friend the whiny scientist was bleeding all over himself, the Wraith kept on coming.

"Sergeant, cover my six!" he barked at Epps, taking a moment to shoot down his tenth Wraith. There are now close to twenty-three enemy corpses on the other side. Ronon had taken a stunner blast or two, but kept on finding new and creative ways to fire his weapon. Lennox was sporting a numbed left arm and a _very_ bruised femur from the collapsing roof. Pretty soon they wouldn't have much of a line of defense. Not with Trailbreaker barely spitting out more than five shots a minute, most of which hit nothing but nothing.

But right now, there was _nothing_ more important than this.

Sheppard put his P90 on the ground temporarily, lashing out to catch Rodney as he began to slide to the ground. "Rodney! _Rodney!"_

It didn't matter what the bar hit, McKay was losing blood fast. His eyelids blinked rapidly, head lolling to one side as the CAR building shook. If only the shield had lasted a few seconds longer, if they'd picked a better spot to take cover, if he'd listened to McKay's idea about the _Daedalus_; none of that meant anything anymore. They were in the middle of a war zone and there was no damned doctor was a lot of blood. Sam was frozen where he crouched, giving the colonel an impulse to snap at him, "Get something to stop the bleeding, dammit! Stay with me, Rodney."

He saw Epps go down through the corner of his eye. A blue flash, and then Lennox's second-in-command keeled over backwards and hit the cement, out cold. Sheppard couldn't believe this was happening, too fast for him to do anything about it. Either he let go of McKay, which he somehow couldn't bring himself to do, or he let the Wraith feed on him while he tried to save his best friend's life. Either way, someone was going to die very soon and Sheppard had no time to choose.

Somewhere on the other side of the table-turned-barrier, he heard something crash and explode on the hangar floor, drowning out the unintelligible shouts of Ronon and Lennox. When the vibration in the air felt like it would crush his throat, he ducked down and tried his best to stay alive.

* * *

-

The sky was on fire. Optimus entirely aware that Cybertronian was not a poetic language; it was vastly inferior in terms of emotional portrayal, but there was no language at all to describe this. There were dozens of Wraith craft screaming overhead, unleashing torrents of blue energy beams and translucent, demolecularizing rays. One human soldier after another fell prey to the culling waves, vanishing in the blink of an optic and supposedly gone forever. The Autobot commander just barely managed to dodge one of the darts as it turned its attention to him. He prepared his weapons to shoot the solitary alien vessel, but it unexpectedly erupted in a flash of orange fire and barreled into the ground at high velocity.

"It's about time, Optimus," Ironhide chided from behind his leader. His cannon was still glowing hot from the overpowered shot. "I was wondering if we should show these humans the proper way to fight a war."

"_Ironhide_," said the Prime, relieved, transmitting the message in their native language. This was no time for small talk, despite his relief at seeing his friend was unharmed. "_The Wraith are attempting to get inside our base to kidnap Sam. We will protect this location while you aid the other humans in any way you can_."

His weapons' specialist gave a curt nod and turned to comply. Optimus made his tone darker. "_Ironhide_." The large, black Autobot faced him again. "_Show no mercy_," said the Prime.

He did not have to completely understand the nature of the Wraith, hybrids or Replicators to know that they were threatening their new home on Earth. And any species, sentient or not, could not simply be left alone when their motives were clearly driven by aimless destruction. Ratchet cast him a glance, which he ignored; every moment they wasted, more humans were becoming the victims of their predatory foes.

Darts were crashing into the Compound grounds like houseflies; by now, the vast lot in front of Compound 1 was littered with burning, twisted wreckage from military vehicles and alien spacecraft alike. No matter how many went down, there were more to take the place of the dead, Optimus observed grimly. He rolled into the open battlefield, tires scraping roughly against the pavement as he swerved to miss a fiery, out-of-control armoured vehicle. Intent on delivering his passenger safely, he pulled up next to the CAR building, just as one of the darts beamed down six Wraith combatants in his path. Unable to transform with her still inside his cab, he relayed an order to Ratchet.

The medical officer unfolded from his terrestrial form and charged the concussive charge emitters in his hands. A split second later, a shockwave powerful enough to knock an Autobot into his recharge cycle struck the group of Wraith. Their petrified bodies flew several yards before landing harmlessly out of their way.

Teyla jumped down after opening the door on Optimus' driver's side. The leader of the Autobots stood up, transforming with his rapid-fire guns at the ready. On the other side of the CAR entrance, Ironhide had picked up half of an obliterated Wraith dart and hurled it into another, just as it was about to bear down on the roof of Compound 2. Once the noise of the explosion died a little, Optimus ordered his last remaining officer, "Ratchet, assist Teyla and the others inside the the residence. I will take care of these annoying pests."

His oldest friend and their human ally disappeared into the mouth of the open hangar. The Prime positioned himself between the opening in the building and the cloud of alien vessels determined to bring ruin to the military base. His processor was just beginning to wonder why the Decepticons had not shown their treacherous faces, when something very unusual happened.

The Wraith darts began to take a strange formation, abandoning their apparently aimless pursuit of destruction and abduction to circle around the Compound in a continuous loop. Optimus' circuits tingled with a feeling of vexation, mere moments before three of the alien crafts broke away from the formation and sped towards him. They engaged their beams, and out of the wavering, pale curtain of light appeared two Decepticons, and a single former comrade.

Storm Jet, Starscream and the infamous Vortex stood in the middle of the scorched grounds, charging their Energon systems for battle. Optimus' first suspicion was confirmed as his optics took in the terrible sight—Megatron was not here, and that meant Megatron and Starscream were operating separately.

It mattered little now. He sent Ironhide a single command in a short, simple data burst.

_Do not let them leave.

* * *

-_

* * *

Sheppard's hands were covered in fresh blood. His teeth hurt from where he'd struck them against the ground, having been knocked down when their metal barrier leaped out at them under the force of whatever explosion took place on the other side. The colonel's vision spun as he righted himself, squeezing the rag that had miraculously appeared around the rebar in McKay's chest as hard as he could and trying to see the status of their enemies through the smoke and dust.

Something moved with a resounding _clang_ in the midst of it. Sheppard couldn't see his P90, so he grabbed the M9 from McKay's gear and flicked the safety off. It obviously wouldn't be much good against more than a single Wraith or a Decepticon for that matter, but it was something. Lennox was with him, leaning on the back of the twisted metal table and clutching his P90. Ronon was just starting to get up—not enough time to rely on him.

Gritting his teeth, Sheppard smacked Sam Witwicky on the arm, startling the kid out of his brand new daze. He obediently grabbed a hold of the rag that was not doing such a great job at keeping Rodeny alive and put pressure on it. The colonel swiftly cocked his sidearm and aimed it over the ege of the table barrier, waiting for their enemy to appear.

The figure in the smoke emerged, waving the smoke away from his face with a bright green hand and stepping over the carcass of the Wraith dart he had shot down on impulse. There was a wet _squelch_ sound and the Autobot Twin paused, looked at the bottom of his foot and cursed something creative. "Aw, tha's gross, man."

Relief was sweet, cold and welcoming in Sheppard's veins. His breath left his lungs in a sigh that thanked the many cultural deities of mankind and he dropped his guard, coughing as he inhaled the acrid smell of burnt Wraith and metal.

"Shit, Skids," said Lennox, echoing the colonel's cough. "I didn't actually believe you were still alive until now. Where the hell did you come from?"

Before the Twin could answer, another shape came through the hazy screen of smoke and stumbled towards him. Trailbreaker slapped a metallic hand on the green one's back, obviously so low on Energon that it took immense effort just to talk. "I'm not surprised you're still hoppin' around, kid. Never believed you were scrap for a moment. If yous'll excuse me, I gotta lie down now." And he promptly fell forward, spent but alive.

"This 'bot's too hot for all tha' drama," Skids said defensively, waving a dismissive hand at his fallen teammate. "Now where's Mudflap?"

"Listen," growled Sheppard. Outside, everything had gotten eerily quiet—the darts still screeched through the sky, but that was it—and he felt his heart sinking with dread. "You have to focus on keeping the Wraith out of this building, Skids. I don't even know who's side you're on, ours or the Replicators, but that's your _only_ priority right now. Got it?"

"Alrigh', fine, bu' only 'cause your part of the VIP," the infiltrator shot back. The statement lacked his usual carefree flare, as it was obvious his worry for his still missing brother was all that was on his mind. Wading through the various bodies of the Wraith and dart pieces, he stood in the middle of the enormous hangar to await the next wave of enemies, blinking his blue optics at the disastrous scene around him. His questionable attitude aside,nNo one could discount his ability to adapt to critical situations.

"_Colonel Sheppard, this is Major Lorne. Please respond."_

It was frazzled. It was mostly static, but Sheppard hear the voice on his earpiece regardless of its quality. "Lorne, what's happening?"

"_The _Daedalus_ jumped into orbit for a few seconds, sir. They successfully managed to put a nuke on board the last surviving cruiser, which unfortunately knocked out our equipment for a few minutes. They also beamed down some Autobot assistance. I assume he's there with you?"_

_"_Yeah, thanks for the heads up." The sound of McKay's gurgling breathing put a very, very heavy damper on his mood, so the usual sarcasm in his voice sounded more like pure malice. Lorne didn't seem to mind.

"_We just made contact with three Decepticon combatants; the Wraith darts were carrying them. We'll be providing back-up support for Optimus and Ironhide unless you have a different plan."_

"We're stuck in the CAR at the moment, Major. We've got Sam Witwicky and McKay's seriously injured. That means we need a medical team—hell, I'll settle with a field medic right now. That's an order, Major Lorne. Escort them yourselves if you have to."

"_Understood, sir."_

Lorne had barely finished speaking into his ear when Sheppard saw the shape of an Autobot fill the entrance of the CAR hangar. The smoke was thinning out, and he could tell already that it was Ratchet. A fraction of him relaxed when he spotted Teyla next to the medical officer, and another hated the irony that the first medic to arrive on the scene was a doctor who couldn't even Rodney stop bleeding. "Teyla!" he shouted, standing up on two wobbly legs. His thigh was throbbing painfully. The Athosian saw him and ran towards their position, easily avoiding the carpet of destruction that lay between them.

Ratchet did a double-take, a strange sight to see for an alien robot, when his optics landed on Skids. He lacked the facial expressions of the average human being, but the light under his mask shone a little brighter and his voice was almost delighted, if irate. "You damned, troublesome miscreant! You had every one of us believing you were dead, you useless slag pile."

"I ain't talkin' to nobody, 'specially not you," the Twin stubbornly announced, and began to ignore his superior officer.

Sam's voice broke the reunion, etched with enraged surprise. "L-Leo, Leo...what are you doing?"

Sheppard tore his attention back to the spot he had left the kid and Rodney, finding themselves joined by Sam's friend: another kid he hadn't had a chance to speak to. Until now, Leo had been hiding inside the office just behind them, despite the fact that it was structurally unsafe to be in. Now he was all but shoving Sam aside in order to grab the rag around McKay's wound. He had already cut through the polyester straps that held his flak jacket together and was trying to cut his shirt away, too.

Leo swatted Sam's had away as he made a grab for the pocket knife. "Knock it off, would you? My mom and dad are both doctors, alright? Pennsylvania State University ring any bells?

Blissfully, Rodney was unconscious from the pain. His face was pale and breathing irregular; a _lot_ of blood was on his clothes and on the ground, making Sheppard's face contort painfully. Leo glanced over at him. "Don't worry about it. It didn't go that far in, just under the clavicle. What sucks it that it could've scraped a lung or something. Man, why did I even bother getting in the car..." The rest of his whining continued under his breath, and no one told him to shut up.

"What happened, John?" Teyla asked breathlessly, unable to hide the grief in her voice when she saw her blood-soaked comrade undergoing the most bizarre form of pre-op.

The colonel shook his head, the dizziness overtaking him. "Long story. What's happened has happened. Now we gotta worry about what's going on out _there_," he said, nodding towards the entrance to the CAR. "There are Replicators God knows where and Decepticons on our boys outside. Hell, I have no idea what we're supposed to do from here."

"I think I do."

Everyone froze. Ronon stood behind Colonel Sheppard, the barrel of his pistol just inches from the back of his leader's head. There was a listless, almost lifeless glaze in his eyes, as though he couldn't see what he was doing. "Everyone drop their weapons. I'm in charge here."

Everything hit him like a sack of bricks. Risking a few, jerky movements, Sheppard slowly turned his head to look at the large Satedan through the corners of his eyes. "Hey, buddy," he said meekly. "So, uh...how are those arms of yours feeling right about now?"

He hated. _Hated_. Replicators.

* * *

-

TBC


	22. The Imperfect Storm Jet

_**Same Side**_

_**---  
**_

AN: Let's see...the Wraith, the Decepticons, the Replicators...hmm...we're missing someone, aren't we? Maybe not. Hmmm...are we missing someone? Naaaaah. Of _course_ not.

Somebody's awake and not happy.

* * *

_Chapter Twenty-Two: The Imperfect Storm Jet_

_

* * *

-  
_

Cybertron had but one sun, and even it rarely appeared beyond the thick gray clouds above the cities. It had been this way for centuries, ever since the war began with the Decepticons. Ash and metal lay strewn upon the scarred battlefield in front of Optimus Prime, a dismal remind that his former brother had set into motion the destruction of their world's former beauty. The sky was so clouded with the constant exhale of natural exhaust, pollution and weapon's smoke, making the slate gray-green terrain on the horizon almost invisible. It would not be long before he was forced to leave this planet in search of Megatron and the Allspark, abandoning the last few remaining Autobots in hiding and his own memories of a once fertile life of leadership.

His greatest and oldest of friends were next to him, surveying what was left of their homeworld. His past mentor bent over to pick up the scrapped remains of a young Autobot combatant, barely enough to fit inside his massive hand. "Trash," Storm Jet remarked, as the splintered metal rained to the ground. They spoke to each other openly rather than transmitting, because the intesity of their departure demanded it. "We have nothing left but the dead to mourn. Our race is finished here."

Optimus had to remind himself that his old teacher had seen far more generations born than he could hope to see now, in this dreary future. "Our hopes rest within the Allspark, and our ability to keep it from falling into the hands of the Deceptions."

"True, that is an admirable dream of yours, Prime," Storm Jet told him, never losing the impatient tone he took whenever he addressed his one-time pupil by his lineage. "Yet you cannot deny . Even Trailbreaker had given up his spark for Primus knows what reason. We should head out in search of a suitable planet to rebuild ourselves, discover new Energon supplies, begin anew."

"And when Megatron finds the Allspark, gaining the means to raise an army to enslave the free planets of the galaxy, what will become of us then?" The Autobot leader could not be reminded of Trailbreaker's loss again. "The Autobots cannot wait in hiding while countless innocents fall victim to the Decepticons. There have been too many losses already. Far too many."

"And so, you would sacrifice what little remains of our generations to play harbinger of galactic justice?" Storm Jet glared at him behind fierce blue optics. "It would take millions of years to find the cube. We are not looking for some sparkling's lost toy!"

"I am with Optimus," Ratchet voiced, having spoken little since examining Trailbreaker's remains. "Given the choice between searching in vain for the Allspark, and searching for a reason to continue calling myself an Autobot, I would choose the former. Your opinions lost their influence with us the day you chose to leave Cybertron, after throwing that tantrum of yours." An accusation like that from an open-minded officer like Ratchet was indicative of the nature of their first separation. Optimus had decided to tolerate Storm Jet's return to their ranks for some time, but now it was over.

"You are welcome to stay behind, Storm Jet," said the Prime, drawing his optics away from the devastated war zone sadly. "There are many Autobots still in hiding who could use your guidance, no matter how unorthodox it has become. But it is time to leave. We must look to the future."

Along the way, they would find other Autobots. Bumblebee joined them several years after leaving Cybertron, on the run from Decepticons who also happened to following the Allspark's trail. Ironhide met them on the barren planet Optimus sent him to, only to inform them that the trail had gone cold. It would be a long, long time before they reached Earth. It would be longer still until Optimus Prime reunited with his old mentor, and the end would finally begin.

* * *

-

"Ronon, buddy, put the gun down. It's me, Sheppard. Remember? I'm giving you an order to drop the weapon."

It was incredibly unlikely that he was getting through to the Satedan, but the colonel wanted to give it a shot anyway. For Rodney's sake. The blaster was still pointed in Sheppard's face, set at its maxium capacity for effective killing. There was a sound near the entrace to the CAR hangar about three seconds after he tried to talk his teammate down, and he risked a glance over at its source.

Three marines and a field medic had come rushing into the building, only to stop a dozen yards behind Ratchet and Skids when they saw the situation. Ronon quickly pointed his blaster at them, and quickly moved it between Sheppard and their group with a twisted, angry expression. "Don't anybody move!" he barked at the newcomers. The marines, of course, aimed their automatics at him with rigid perfection and waited for a command from either of the Compound Alliance leaders."

"Listen to me, Ronon," Sheppard said forcefully, putting up his hands in a meek attempt to show that he was harmless and drawing the infected Satedan's attention towards him. "McKay needs help. If he doesn't get it, he's going to die very soon, got that? If there's even a shred of you still in control of your brain, I know you don't want that to happen."

God damn, he _was_ getting through. Ronon's sweat-streaked brown creased and then went flat, and creased again with uncertainty. Whatever was happening in his head, he was clearly giving it a run for its money. Finally, he growled at the medic in the marines' group and waved with his blaster. "Just her," he said, flecks of saliva spraying from his lips as he approached a state in which he would probably collapse in a seizure. "Only she comes through, for McKay. Everyone else, shut up don't move!"

The field medic did not have to be told twice. As soon as he gave the order, she started forward, running past Ratchet's left ankle and hoisting her backpack over the edge of the table to reach Rodney's side. A trembling Leo happily backed up to give her room to work, and Sheppard hoped that her slightly more professional hands would be enough to pull McKay through this. That wasn't even taking into consideration the fact that he _needed_ Rodney to shut down or override these Replicators that were running around.

"What's the plan, buddy?" he asked Ronon, still holding his hands out. "We're all listening to you. Now if you can't fight this, you have to tell us what you want."

Ronon looked at him with forced eyebrows, a creased forehead and sweat beading at his hairline. He gripped the blaster in his hand, biting his lip as though something was digging at his conscience. That was the cue for Ratchet to swiftly raise and arm and fire a very small, globual projectile at him. Ronon flinched as the dart pierced his skin just behind his neck and he reached up as if to swat it...and promptly fell forward.

"Whoa!" Sheppard caught him and slowly lowered his dead weight to the ground at Rodney's feet. He glanced up at the Autobot who had felled his teammate. "Thanks."

"I didn't know you could do that," Major Lennox remarked somewhat absently, throwing Ratchet a prying look as he stooped to pick up his discarded P90. "Is that stuff safe?"

The medical officer shrugged. "You know now. The components of the sedative are identical to your own. I would rather not use it under any other circumstances."

"Yeah, that's just a diplomatic slice of hell waiting to happen," muttered Epps, breathing a sigh of relief anyway.

Sheppard had ducked back to check on Rodney once he pried—not easily—the blaster out of Ronon's unconscious hand. Epps moved in behind him to turn the Satedan over and bind his hands behind his back with a pair of plastic cuffs, while the colonel took Sam's spot and knelt beside the female field medic, looking for a clue on her face. McKay's face was extremely pale and he was miraculously semi-conscious, which was either a good sign or a tribute to the scientist's stubborn side. The metal bar was still stuck above his collar bone. "What's it look like, private?"

"He'll need surgery as soon as possible. I can't remove the shard unless I'm prepared to do it myself and I'm a medic, Jim, not a doctor." She forced a smile and the colonel silently thanked her for putting on a brave front for Rodney, hoping that the astrophysicist would appreciate the geeky humour. "The good news is that there's no sign of internal bleeding. The bad news is that his body could go into shock before we can properly medicate him for treatment." She lowered her voice to a hushed tone for that part.

"That's okay," said the colonel, flashing an unconvincing smile. "I've seen what he's like when he's heavily medicated. We're not missing anything."

"Sheppard..." Rodney slurred his name, blinking his eyes and looking into the colonel's face. "There you are. Hey, Teyla. Have you seen my computer?"

"I ate it," Sheppard replied on one of his more childish instincts as Teyla carefully stepped over the sleeping Ronon to reach them. The colonel reached down and picked up the laptop, wrapped in its protective vinyl covering and held onto it. "Look, this is gonna make me sound like a dick..."

"Oh, there's a surprise," grumbled Rodney. Obviously the painkillers that the field medic gave him were kicking in, because his breathing was slowing down and sounding less painful. "Just give it to me, okay? When it comes to stopping the Replicators from destroying the planet, I say 'what big metal rod through my chest cavity'?"

"That's the spirit." Sheppard patted him on his uninjured arm and put the slightly damaged computer down on McKay's lap, though on the inside he was celebrating the fact that his whiny scientist friend had escaped the clutches of death again. He shared a glance with Teyla and knew that she was just as relieved, but their battle wasn't over.

"Storm Jet!" Trailbreaker's arms scraped across the paved ground as he jolted back onto his feet. The dark blue Autobot swaggered over to Skids and braced himself on his fellow soldier's shoulder, looking uncharacteristically panicked about the happenings outside. "I knew that two-timin' busted fender was gonna show his face sooner or later! I got this one, kids. Stay behind me," he said, and started to stumble towards the entrance to the CAR.

Ratchet grabbed the smaller Autobot under his chin and stopped him in his tracks. "Oh, no you don't. You are going to replenish your Energon reserves and stay on the sidelines until I call upon you. Medical officer's orders."

"Energon?" For some reason, the Brooklyn accented response sounded unhappy. "Uh, I don' think that's a good idea, doc..."

"Yo, Optimus needs a hand 'splodin' some mean-aft Decepticons!" Skids broke out, jabbing a finger at the communications officer. "What choo whinin' about, bubble'bot? We got work to do!"

"Can we trust him?" Sheppard asked under his breath, peering at Lennox and Epps. The NEST commander shrugged.

"Skids, your job is to make sure this moron takes his Energon and keep an eye on Dr. McKay's group," Ratchet ordered, somewhat answering the question of who could be trusted. The medical officer released Trailbreaker and transformed into his alternative mode, the flashing red lights of his emergency vehicle form flickering over the walls of the compound hangar. His back tires screeched a little as he took off towards the battlefield in order to provide support for their leader.

"Slag, I always get lef' behind," the green Twin complained. "Le's go, Trailbaby. It's Energon tahm."

Two things happened at once. Or rather, they happened nearly at the same time. One: Rodney's practically colourless face lit up like a Christmas tree and he started to sputter something about having discovered a way to disable the link between the new Replicators. Two: a sizable chunk of concrete and steel was blown out of the wall on the far side of the CAR building. Through the dimly lit smoke, a figure almost identical to Skids emerged through the newly formed hole and scanned the interior of the Autobot residence.

"Mudflap!" The green Twin's voice was ecstatic. He raised his arms into the air and started forward to greet his brother. After a few steps, he clanked to a halt. "Uh...Mudflap? Wha's wrong wit' choo?"

Rather than showing any emotion at seeing his brother alive and well, the red Autobot continued to advance towards the immobile group as a horrible feeling permeated in the air.

"He is not himself!" Teyla announced fearfully. "He has been afflicted by the Replicators, just like Ronon!"

Mudflap was well within shooting range now.

"Aw, you must be kiddin' me, motha--" That was all Skids could say before his twin launched himself forward and collided with him with such a force that was unlike any of their other, bickering scuffles. The pair went rolling across the ground, the pinging of metal echoing through the hangar slightly muffled by the sounds of battle outside.

Sheppard, Epps and Lennox all turned their P90s on their new and unexpected enemy, and opened fire.

* * *

-

"_We need backup! Unit eight, SGC handler, bravo nine delta four, we need--"_

_"--out here, we can't hold it, sir! Second Lieutenant Panner shot as us from behind, scattered--"_

_"--medical evac inside Compound 3, left wing corridor. Sergeant Monroe is down, I repeat, this was _not_ friendly fire--"_

Optimus was laying on his back, in a world where his cognitive functions flickered in and out of consciousness, mixing dull colours with blurry edges and the only thing he perceived for ten or fifteen seconds were the radio calls of the human soldiers. How he arrived in this state confused him; worse, he found that he could not order his body to move. Then his memory began to come back online, and he remembered struggling against the invisible force that was pulling him to the ground. Somehow, Storm Jet had felled him without firing a single shot.

There was no mistaking the source of his problem; it was a virus. But it was no routine abnormality of his sensory data—no, it was alien. They were Replicators. His internal scans were corrupted data, but he knew there could not possibly be enough in his systems to cause a motory failure. He ran a trace on the scattered nano-machines in the span 0.034 seconds, and pinpointed the timing of his own infection before the malicious nanites attacked the devoured the data from within. Miss Emmagan had been correct; Mudflap was infected as well, and he too had spread the nanites when he forcibly confronted the Twin.

But why now? Surely the nano-machines were not capable of communicating across a broad spectrum, premeditating a scheme to conquer everything they came into contact with? According to the Stargate Command records, they required centuries to evolve from simple constructive nanites into sentient lifeforms.

It was all so much to wonder, but no answers were given. Optimus concentrated on moving, overriding the alien nanites' malicious attempts to immobilize him and staggering to his feet. Five and three quarters of a second had passed since he was downed, long enough for Starscream to come within grasping range of the Autobot leader.

The Decepticon violently lunged at him, hand outstretched like a claw, but the Prime struck it down with a fist and stepped to the side by ninety degrees. His other hand flew up and seized the silvery plating on Starscream's back, and he threw his would-be assailant into the ground where he had been sprawled a moment earlier.

Starscream rolled away as Optimus pierced the ground with a hot, glowing blade. Impeded by the microscopic infection, the Prime had no time to move before his enemy slunk to his feet and thrust his claw-like fingers under his chin. Optimus grasped the Decepticon's hands and tried to pull them off, while Starscream pried with his unnatural strength in an attempt to decapitate him.

An explosive round bounced off of the Decepticon's head and detonated on his shoulder, pushing the combatants apart. Optimus twisted to see a team of NEST personnel taking cover in the entrance of a nearby hangar, and one of them had a missile launcher propped on his shoulder. Before Starscream could turn his weapons on their defenseless position, the commander of the Autobots mercilessly drove an arm into the weaker armour in his abdomen. The much lighter Decepticon sailed backwards for ten meters or so before skidding on the pavement in a spray of yellow sparks.

Optimus cast a surveying scan over the battlefield and learned that Ironhide was locked in combat with Vortex, a situation that was quickly turning in his officer's favour. Storm Jet had not moved. He was watching him, appraising him, waiting for Optimus to make a grievous error in judgment. Ages ago, he had done just the same while directing Optimus' training, long before Optimus' status of a Prime became known.

No. There was something different. There was a reason that was eluding him completely, a trick he had yet to discover. The reason Storm Jet traveled to Earth, released a presumed to be offline Trailbreaker into their custody, tried to kidnap Sam, counterfeited Skids' death, and was now helping the Wraith conquer humanity. Was it all just a personal vendetta, or did his old teacher still believe in restoring the future of Autobots by turning Earth into their asylum? Where was the sense in his madness?

Starscream had climbed back to his feet and was staring Optimus down. "Don't you see, Prime," the Decepticon seethed, uncurling a fist in a gesture towards the chaotic battlefield. "How weak your pathetic alliance really is, how _weak_ you really are. I want to _scream_ in delight just thinking how similar you and my master truly are...blinded by the ambitions of those you trust!"

"I could say the same for your accord with the Wraith," Optimus replied darkly. "Fighting alongside an organic species; how ironic that you would cast aside your prejudice for this reason only."

"Servants who must feed, so very like _my_ desire to drain the life from your corpse and witness your spark flicker and die between my hands," growled Starscream. "And now, Prime...you die." He aimed his missile pods for the Prime's spark chamber, locking onto its heat signature, and prepared to fire.

An intense blue beam sliced through the Decepticon's outstretched arm. His howl of pain and outrage was cut off when a second similar beam punctured the left cavity of his chest. With a red-glowing hole through his body and a limb severed, Starscream reeled backwards and clutched at his wounds, screaming foully in Cybertronian at his betrayer: Storm Jet. He transformed into his aerial alternative mode a split second before the former Autobot fired on him again, missing the underside of the jet by a hand's breadth. Starscream took off sluggishly into the sky, knocking one of the Wraith darts aside and sending it crashing into a building.

Storm Jet shook his head in the wake of the startling event. "I hated that slimy slag heap from the very beginning. I hope his Energon runs out before he reaches his destination." Those same, fierce optics snapped towards Optimus, unchanged in their disgust. "Now we have time to chat, Prime. A few minutes is all this will take."

"Storm Jet..." The Prime's tone was far from trusting.

"These humans are the biological sustenance for the creatures in those vessels you see circling us," his former mentor explain. "All sentient life deserves a chance to choose for themselves, is that not precisely what you have claimed _ever_ since you became a Prime?"

"I have always been a Prime," said Optimus, taking note that the human soldiers' radio chatter had died down significantly. He had no idea where Ironhide and Vortex went, only that the Wraith spacecraft was still orbitting them like so many vultures waiting for their chance to descend.

"You are not the shepherd who protects the sheep from the wolves, Prime. I have taken control over the situation on this planet. I even have control over some of the organic fleshlings you call your friends. I will spare you the suspense, 'old friend'...this all began with Trailbreaker."

A cold feeling ran through Optimus' spark. His silence seemed to amuse Storm Jet.

"His spark was beyond rekindling. I very much doubt the Allspark itself could have saved him. I had other means of reviving him, means that will clear the path towards the future like you never could."

That reason that had been eluding Optimus, the truth behind his mentor's odd behaviour became suddenly clear to him as though it had been downloaded through an instantaneous connection. It was abundantly clear, and still he could not process it. Or believe it. "The Replicators," said the Prime. "You are behind them."

"Not behind, Prime. I _am_ them." Storm Jet took a few, long stride towards him, transforming his pulse lasers back into his natural arms. "Long before you abandoned Cybertron, I found them. I made them my own. They are everything that is missing in our most basic elements. With these nano-machines, I have a perfect symbiotic relationship that makes me indestructable. Relieves me of the need to ever consume Energon. This is what I wanted to show you from the moment I returned to Cybertron...and yet you would not listen to."

"They have corrupted you," Optimus observed, overcome with a sudden sadness that nearly made his knees buckle. Storm Jet had never betrayed them. Everything led back to these alien nanites. "Forgive me, old friend."

Storm Jet stopped several paces away from the leader of the Autobots and stared at him. "You are the one who is corrupted, Prime. Very soon, the nano-machines will fuse with your spark and begin repairing that broken sense of self-righteousness that has led the Autobots astray. And when this planet has been freed from the life-sucking organics, we will look to the future. _Our_ future."

* * *

-

TBC


	23. The Ironhide Giant

**_Same Side_**

**_---  
_**

AN: Long time no update. Slightly, slightly shorter chapter. We're getting close to the end, kids. What will our unlikely...wait, our incredibly expected and ultimately likable heroes do now!?

I've been spelling 'O'Neill' wrong? Shame on you, Jack. That's way too many vertical lines in your name. Bad general. Bad.

* * *

_Chapter Twenty-Three: The Ironhide Giant_

_

* * *

-  
_

It soon became clear that Skids' upper hand (in a literal sense!) would not last. The green and red pair of Autobots broke apart, and the blue shimmer around Skid's body died. The shattered pieces of the altered shielding device hit the floor of the hangar at their feet, and three seconds later they were on each other again. Mudflap went crashing down, and the other twin grabbed his one arm to try and pin it behind his back. "Now you's askin' for it, brotha! Cry uncle, slagface, cry uncle!" A few of the P90 rounds ricocheted off of his rear left shoulder. "'Ey, 'spect the home team!"

Although the Autobot wasn't taking the situation all that seriously, Lennox was trying to get a hold of the chaos without losing another team member. He thrust a fist into the air and shouted, "Cease fire! Stop shooting, dammit!"

Sheppard did as was instructed, but continued to watch the scene unfold over the lip of his reticule. The two soldiers that had come with the medic team listened to the major's orders without a hitch, which he found himself grateful for; there were Stargate people, but they were good marines. Someone kicked his foot from behind, and he glanced over his shoulder to see Sam hovering over his shoulder. The kid was hunkered down, like he was expecting the roof to cave in any moment. He stuck something in the colonel's face. "McKay said to use this."

Snatching the rectangular USB device, Sheppard slid further behind the table and landed painfully on his rump as a wild shot from the Twins' fiasco blasted past them overhead. A glare in Rodney's direction confirmed that the scientist had slumped into unconsciousness, the medic who had been tending to his injury looking up at the colonel apologetically. "What for?" he hissed at the university student.

"Uh...um..." Sam squinted and appeared as if he were trying to remember something. "S-Sorry, I just...it's hard...the Replicators, use it against the Replicators!"

"This?" It was a USB flash device. Sure, if was one of _McKay's_ devices, but how much could it possibly store? "C'mon, I've eaten bigger potato chips than this!"

Twitching from some unseen malady, Sam reached over as another one of the Autobots' shells exploded behind them. He used his thum to flip a tiny little hatch open on the USB drive, exposing something that looked like a needle. "He said it'll work like a...I don't know, one of those things they stick in your...a needle! One of those. It'll work, trust me!"

Sheppard looked at Teyla, and she tried to mask her doubt the best she could. They both knew Rodney was good at performing last-minute miracles, but the cure for the common Replicator wasn't something that you could carry around in your pocket. Was it?

He was robbed of his chance to find out for himself. Lennox's hand came out of nowhere and seized the USB drive out of the colonel's fingers, and without a single word of explation, the NEST commander threw himself over the edge of the table and out into the open. Trailbreaker made a swipe for him, but his depleted energy made him too slow and the human soldier dodged his arm easily. Swearing, Sheppard flipped over and propped himself up on an elbow, aiming his P90 at the twin Autobots now circling each other halfway across the CAR.

Lennox ducked under Skids arm as the green Twin unknowingly took a step back to brace himself against Mudflap's next tackle. Both were getting to be visibly worn out, and the red one's constant attempts to beat his brother into scrap was making it hard for them to pay attention to their surroundings. It was lucky the major was getting so good at avoiding large, robotic alien limbs, or he might have been crushed under a single misstep by the tiring Autobot. An instant later, Lennox had to dive on the ground and roll as he somehow found himself trapped between the Twins' and underneath their legs, with just enough room to spin around as a large metal foot slammed down where his hand—with the device—had been a moment before.

The guy had guts. Sheppard admitted this to himself yet again. Here he was watching the major do something he wasn't even sure he would have done himself.

The Autobots now had each other in a stranglehold, each grappling for a better grip; Mudflap was trying to rip a vital chip or circulatory tube out of his twin and Skids was trying to slap some sense into him, unaware of how ineffectual it would be against his microscopic opponents. Neither one of them even noticed Lennox scramble backwards on his hands and knees, twist around and jab something the size of a matchbook into the exposed circuits on Mudflap's rear flank.

Jolting, the red Autobot then stumbled back and released his brother at the same time. He blinked a few times and peered at his counterpart in front of him. Then, out of nowhere, he lunged forward and punched the green twin in the face.

"Dammit, it didn't work!" Sheppard swore out loud before he gave it a thought. Epps, crouching next to him, raised his eyebrows lazily.

"Yeah, it did," he said, lowering the barrel of his weapon. "You just don't know them like we do."

And sure enough, Mudflap had found his voice. He pushed Skids and slapped him, then pushed him again. "I'm gonna bag, tag and boil you alavh, you think you got permish ta suck so bad, Skids? I'm da older brotha, I make da rules, and you get ta die when I say i's okay, stupid! "

This incited yet another brawl, this time punctuated with two squabbling voices belonging to freshly reunited siblings. It was both endearing and incredibly annoying to watch.

Lennox lay on his back in the middle of the floor, the needle-like drive once again clutched in his fingers. He'd thought to pick it off the liberated Autobot before they lost it permanently. Who knew how many of these things Dr. McKay had laying around? For a few long moments, he breathed in and out and stared at the ceiling. Then he lurched forward and climbed to his feet. God, he was tired.

"What about Ronon?" The colonel looked over at Sam. The kid just shook his head, face betraying that he had no idea. "Dammit. He's gonna be pissed when McKay finally finds out how to shut down the Replicators for good." He would have said something else, but he was interrupted by his radio.

"_Colonel Sheppard, we have eyes on Ratchet. He just came out front and engaged the enemy. Colonel, if you can hear me, please respond."_

Something hit the side of the CAR building and exploded, shaking the ground underneath them. The brawling Twins stumbled apart as another stray missile darted into the hangar, streaked past them and hit the wall behind the group of humans. Sheppard ducks down and waited for the air to stop vibrating before he answered through his own earpiece. "This is Sheppard. Go ahead."

"_Not good news, sir. The Wraith Hive ship is in orbit. They aren't answering our hails and they're not firing on us, so we figure they're waiting for something to happen down here."_

Sheppard waited a few seconds to let out an exasperated sigh. "Guess they aren't all too happy about us blowing up their cruisers. Alright, major, what's the shield status of Compoud 1 and can me contact Atlantis or the SGC from here?"

"_Negative about the contact, colonel. First things they blew up were the communications relays on the roof. We got a team repairing it, but it could take hours. Shields are still at sixty-eight percent, or so these guys tell me."_

"Just enough to let us think about how bad it's gonna hurt when they blow us up," muttered the colonel, turning his eyes on Sam. "Can you get one of McKay's devices over to where Bumblebee's being quarantined?"

The kid looked like he'd just asked him to enlist his seven-year-old cousin in the army. Sheppard raised his eyebrows. "Just to make sure he doesn't wake up and try to _kill_ us, Sam. We don't put injured soldiers on the front line, got it?"

It was no Lennox's turn to try and straighten out the kink in their ragtag group of combatants, infected liabilities and civilians, all of which he was in part responsible for. The buzzing scream of the alien darts outside made the skin on the back of his head twitch, and every time the ground trembled he wondered if Optimus was going to be all right handling the Decepticons on his own. He looked over to the Twins, who had more or less settled down after Epps went after them and cheerfully threatened to shoot them both if they didn't stop fighting. They were fine, despite Mudflap appearing like he had been tossed into Devastator's jaws all over again. It was Trailbreaker he was worried about; best he sent Optimus' newest officer to watch over Bee and Sam in case the Wraith were still crawling around.

"Wha's the plan, Mr. Maja sah?" Skids asked him, giving his brother one last shove. "C'mon, ain't you s'posed to be in charge, fearless leader?"

The NEST commander closed his eyes. "Don't make me start thinking bad thoughts, Skids," he warned, pointing a dirt-caked finger at the Autobot. "Sheppard, you and Epps should come with me outside. Twins, you—and for the love of God, I mean it—_stay here _and defend this position in we have another Decepticon planning an ambush. Trailbreaker, are you alright with taking—"

"Yeah, yeah, you want me to take crazy-head and his miracle cure back to Bumblebee so I don't get in the way," the dark blue Autobot finished, just as the globual yellow orbs in his arms sizzled and snapped. "Okay, okay—fair enough, wise guy."

"Good." Major Lennox looked around, and spotted Leo.

Leo was crouched behind the two marines standing guard over McKay and the field medic. "Not moving...a muscle," he squeaked, and hurriedly cleared his throat. "I mean, I got this."

As a unit, Sheppard, Lennox and Sergeant Epps left the carnage of their makeshift indoor shelter behind and sifted through the debris and Wraith bodies to reach the front of the CAR. The lieutenant colonel immediately ducked to one side, turning his back to an overturned vehicle once they reached the open lot at the center of the compound. He felt good about leaving Teyla with Ronon and McKay; if the big guy did come around, they were his only hope of getting him to calm down. Waking up infected by Replicators _and_ surrounded by strangers was bound to make an irritating situation worse, but with the addition of two marines and two...questionably competent Autobots, he could at least count on the rest of his team being safe from Wraith and Decepticons.

_Two enemies down,_ he thought sarcastically. Just the hybrids and the Replicators to worry about. Now was a bad time to start thinking about where the hell the hybrids were. _One intergalactic mess at a time, John. _

* * *

-

Vortex was an apt name for this moving, disgusting slag heap.

Only a few times in Ironhide's long and industrious lifetime had he found it difficult to annihilate a single Decepticon opponent. It was easy; lock on, fire, detonate and clean up the trash when complete. There was no better failsafe tactic when the useless collection of scrap firing back at you had the accuracy training of a sparkling in his beginning stage of infancy.

This was not the case with Vortex. It peeled his sensors to grudgingly admit, but this..._warrior _was nearly equal in warfare tactics than Ironhide himself. Prime would have no trouble slicing the cretin in half, but the black Autobot's cannons were too (_slag) _slow to hit the incredibly agile Decepticon on the opposite side of the Compound 4 building. What was far more irritating was his tenacity to use his alternate form, shifting into an armoured tank and then back to his natural mode whenever he pleased. It was getting to be very grating on Ironhide's internal pressure systems.

A chuck of crumpled metal—half of a human jeep—came arcing towards him through a curtain of smoke. Snorting, Ironhide caught the slow-moving projectile easily and used the momentum to toss it away. Vortex was playing with him, with _him_ of all Autobots. He couldn't wait to get his hands on the spark of this infuriating Decepticon. He had tried every possible method he knew, but the blasted nuisance was too fast for him in his real guise, and too heavily protected in his terrestrial form. The only way to destroy him was to catch his opponent in between...

Ironhide charged his cannons and rolled into the cloud of haze, changing his direction of approach at the very last second.

Vortex had been waiting for this, and whisked downwards from the roof of Compound 4, the pointed steel lance on his silvery-black arm aiming to skewer the unsuspecting weapons' specialist from above. A short gust of wind parted the smokescreen, revealing nothing underneath him. Bellowing, the large Decepticon managed to transform halfway into his tank disguise when Ironhide came lunging out of the dark slate smoke to his left and clamped down on his shoulders from behind. Vortex was slammed into the ground, the delicate and fragile exposed inner circuits of his midway transformation shattering in the process. The Decepticon's shriek of pain and outrage was a Cybertronian tribute to anguish. He, a veteran of countless battles, victor over hundreds of pathetic Autobots! Brought down by a sparkling's idea of a prank!

The pitch black Autobot rose above him, now a paralyzed, twitching assortment of limbs only somewhat resembling a Decepticon, being stuck halfway between two modes. Not even reverting to a protoform would save him now, and both opponents knew it. With great satisfaction, Ironhide peered mercilessly down into the bright red optics of the highly skilled saboteur, powered up his favourite cannon, and fired. In the glow of the hot, smoldering hole in his chest, the Decepticon's optics dimmed and went offline.

Not even pausing to relish in his victory, Ironhide turned away from the corpse of his enemy to look at the battlefield where his leader was confronting Storm Jet. The human combatants who had valiantly (if ineffectively) been assisting him with their assortment of exploding projectiles were now emerging from their various shelters around the abandoned buildings. Ironhide nodded to them, and confirmed that his status sensors indicated that he was nowhere near damaged enough to withdraw from battle.

Optimus needed him. He sent a very brief message to Ratchet, one that outlined his new tactic for implementing _his_ kind of justice on the sparkless traitor.

He didn't wait for a response before transforming and screeching off towards the center of the alien conflict, with three heavily armed human vehicles close behind.

* * *

-

TBC


	24. Neverending Glory

**_Same Side_**

**_---  
_**

AN: Okay, okay. One last curve ball. That's it, I promise. Just one more! I'll stop messing with your minds after this.

Maybe two or three after this, but then I _swear_, I'm done.

Speaking of done, this story is nearly finished. Wow.

* * *

_Chapter Twenty-Four: Neverending Glory_

_

* * *

-  
_

"The Wraith," Optimus said, the air around the compound abuzz with ominous life and distracting his thoughts towards the safety of his allies. "Megatron...no, not even Starscream would stoop to an alliance with an organic species. This was all your doing, Storm Jet. Why?"

"For the prosperity of future Cybertron, of course," the red one replied, yellow optics seeming to focus on nothing and everything at once. His former mentor took a few, unhurried steps toward the Prime, the sound of his heavy footfalls clanging and scraping on the paved lot. Now there were human combatants streaming all around them at a distance, taking advantage of the two Transformers' tete-a-tete in order to gather the wounded and set up rocket launchers, armed squadrons and even snipers all aroud the collection of Compound buildings. "Optimus, I never once stopped believing in you, not even once you foolishly began this crusade. There is no shame in turning back and rebuilding what little remains of the Autobots. We can still do it together."

"After everything you have done to betray our trust," the leader of the Autobots said sadly, shaking his head lightly. He looked up again at the older mech, accepting with a twinge in his spark that his once beloved mentor had been lost a long, long time ago. "The future you speak of is a twisted delusion, Storm Jet. Our pact with the human race goes deeper than you can imagine. And your methods are wrong. My answer is 'no'."

As expected, the former Autobot stood across from the Prime, pistons hissing as he shifted his weight. He then took a single step back, closing and changing a fist into a multi-barrel weapon. "Then you have chosen your new pet project over your sworn duty as a Prime. Somehow, I am not surprised."

It was the prelude to a whole new level of chaos. Gunfire opened up on all sides, flashes of red hot fire and jarring noises as the Compound became a cradle for yet more senseless destruction. Like a cloud of insects, the circling Wraith darts broke off into arcing attack patterns and resumed their relentless assault on the Compound defenders with renewed vigor. Optimus stepped aside just in time as one of the vessels screamed past his head, and that alone saved him from suffering heavy damage from a short burst of Storm Jet's pulse rifle. The glowing rounds detonated on the wall of Compound 3, and within the following seconds, a battle between two titanic Autobots began.

Fighting his old mentor was nothing like fighting Megatron, Starscream or any other Decepticon he had ever faced. Storm Jet knew all of Optimus' tricks, his capabilities, his reaction times and even most of his tactics. The opposite was not true; whatever had become of the once proud warrior and distinguished leader he once knew, this was not him. Optimus pushed aside his doubts, focusing on one thing only: protecting his own.

He braced against the concussive wave he knew was coming, though the humans standing within a hundred meter radius were not as fortunate. Many of them were cast off their feet and tossed in several directions. In the muted wake of the powerful shockwave, Optimus transformed and aimed his arm cannon on the crippling points of his mentor. Rather than take evasive action, as was expected, Storm Jet widened his stance and thrust his arms out, vibrantly glowing blades forming out of his hands. He then charged straight at his old pupil, Optimus' rounds glancing off of his impossibly hardened veneer.

Ratchet was struck several times in the chest from the Wraith stunner fire, which he reciprocated by firing his guns on a swarm of three darts. He spun around to avoid the tumbling wreckage of one such vessel as it crashed into another, sending both to the ground in a blaze of metal, alien flesh and smoke. With many more of these flying disasters headed his way, the medical officer transformed into his tougher-than-nails terrestrial form and drove straight into Storm Jet's legs from behind. Meters away from striking down on Optimus, the large red ancient buckled over sideways and rolled across the pavement in short bursts of sparks.

It was hopeless, even for a former Autobot veteran empowered by Replicator technology. Ironhide, accompanied by nearly two dozen human marines and Air Force trainees, barreled into the scene from the northeastern quadrant of the compound. The large black Autobot powered up his cannons and opened fire on Storm Jet from a fair distance, providing Optimus with a much needed distraction.

Storm Jet was not Starscream. In the face of many well-equipped human soldiers and three extremely capable Autobots, he lunged to his feet and absorbed one blow after another, hardly swaying under the speckled explosions upon his armor. There was a flash of blue, and a light streaked across the open, sunset-kissed lot to punch through a freshly transformed Ratchet. The hole left in the medical officer's right shoulder caused his circuits to rupture, and the dangled loosely at his side.

Enraged, Optimus lunged at Storm Jet from the side, glowing blades drawn, but his slight advantage in size outdid him. The red one drove the main joint in his arm straight up underneath the Autobot commander's chin, stunning his processors, and rammed a closed, metal fist into the side of Optimus' head. Dazed but not felled, the blue-and-red Autobot stumbled back.

"This is our opportunity!" roared Storm Jet, swinging a long blade down on his former pupil. Optimus caught it. "Accept the infallible truth, Prime! Do your duty!"

"I am!" Optimus twisted the red arm around and struck a blow into Storm Jet's abdomen. "If you were not so blinded by power, this would be over by now!"

Two two titans were now hand-locked. The single Prime knew what was going to happen in the next few seconds, and it chilled him. For thousand of years, this was one moment in time he had been dreading the most.

"It is over, Prime," the gravelly voice of his old mentor said, pistons groaning under the force of their struggle. "For you."

All Optimus perceived then was the brilliant yellow flash and a purely Cybertronian scream. Whether it was his or Storm Jet's, he could not be sure.

* * *

The devastating symphony over the CAR had returned, and yet somehow, it was eerily quiet inside the building. Dr. McKay had returned to the world of the living and he was gasping quietly, unable to stop himself from whimpering. But his noises were the only abnormality in the large, spacious hangar. Even the twin Autobots were silent.

"How is he?" Teyla asked the field medic, a private in the military she had never had the opportunity to meet before. Given the recent events, it was hard to hide her emotions from her face. She had to keep glancing over at Mudflap, to make sure he would not turn on her again. It was only an instinct, she realized, and she meant no offense towards him...but she had been very frightened. And now, she was scared for her friend's life.

"The painkillers I gave him aren't the kind he needs," the medic admitted with a sympathetic tenor. She looked down at her patient. "Like I said, he needs surgery. If this doesn't end soon, we'll have to...I'll have to perform it here, _if_ I get the right anesthetics and equipment."

Suddenly, the two marines that had stayed behind with them went tense and aimed their P90s at something across the hangar in simultaneous clicks. There were three shapes emerging from the scarred wall which a certain Twin had torn open. Skids and Mudflap were on the ball for once, their weapons whining as they prepared to destroy the Wraith that were approaching them.

Realization hit Teyla like cold water, and she found herself yelling for the third time that night, "Stop! Do not shoot! He is..." Not a friend, she had to tell herself. Her tone darkened as she addressed the all-too-familiar Wraith standing well within shooting range.

Todd. And two Wraith soldiers.

She stared at them. "How...how did you..._why_ are you here?"

"Ah, Teyla..." The pleasant tone of Todd's voice was oddly genuine. "It is good to see you are still alive. Is Sheppard nearby?"

"Ma'am, that is a Wraith," one of the marines said icily.

"Yeah, we's s'posed to bust these slag-suckas, ain't we?" Skids reinforced, only too eager to shoot something as usual.

Teyla sighed, unable to restrain her irritation. "He is an...ally. He has helped us many times in the past. You did _not_ answer my question," she said, turning the last statement towards Todd. "Why are you here? Are you with the Wraith currently trying to attack Earth?"

"You could say that," the old Wraith answered. Strangely, he was not armed. The masked Wraith accompanying him had Wraith stunners, but they were being carried in such a way that seemed non-threatening. Teyla found herself impulsively lowering her own P90, the Wraith part of her sensing something familiar about the exchange. Todd smiled in his rare, alien way and glanced at the gathered humans and Autobots. "My story is long and filled with many questions I myself have not found the answers to. Let me assure you, Teyla...we did not enter this galaxy with the intention of coming to Earth."

It was several seconds before the Athosian woman discovered that she _believed_ him. Why, she could not possibly know. But somehow, she knew it was the truth. "Then _why_ are you attacking us now?" she demanded through clenched teeth. Her mind was filled with thoughts of Torren.

"As I said, there are many questions I myself don't know the answer to. The queen will no longer speak with me." Todd sighed and went on. "I feel ashamed to admit that I divulged the means necessary to prepared the hive ship in order to reach this galaxy, however...that was only because we are pursuing the hybrid ship that crossed over first. We had nearly cornered them...when the queen suddenly decided to abandon our deal and head for this planet."

"You expect me to believe that it is your _queen_ and _not_ you who instigated this betrayal?" Teyla hissed, her finger tightening around the trigger of her weapon.

"I am not stupid, Teyla..." the Wraith breathed with genuine regret. "It would take far more than a hive ship and a few cruisers to cull a population this size. I imagine my queen felt...swayed by one of your mechanical friends and thus altered her course of actions without consulting me first."

"Why are you here?" Teyla demanded, relentless with her interrogation.

Todd didn't seem to mind. He glanced at the ceiling momentarily. "As we speak, my hive ship is locking its weapons' systems on a dozen cities on the surface of this planet. The queen intends to create anarchy by destroying the capitals of several of Earth's most powerful nations. Unless we do something, she will succeed."

Terror seized her throat and stomach almost at the same time. Even though she knew San Francisco was not the American capital, the repercussions of what Todd was explaining made every nerve in her body buzz anxiously. She began to feel nausea creep into the center of her body. "Are you saying...you want help to destroy your hive ship? And how do you intend to return to the Pegasus galaxy once that is done?"

The impassive look on the old Wraith's face and the accompanying silence in her mind shocked Teyla to her very core. "I have no such intention, Teyla. I am well prepared to be taken into your custody one last time, and if necessary, starve to death in due process. Naturally, I aim to eliminate every last hybrid in this galaxy before succumbing to that fate."

* * *

-

Sam spotted his guardian, literally shackled to a pair of sixteen-inch thick steel wedges near the back of Compound 4, adjoining on to the CAR building. It was where the quarantined were kept, meaning both Bumblebee and the Replicator parts that Optimus picked up from Smoke Hole Canyon. Even though his guardian had willingly been placed here, due to the severity of his infection and damages, seeing him chained up and helpless like that made a lump in his chest ache when he saw it. He had forgotten all about Trailbreaker when he approached the yellow Autobot with the USB device in one hand.

"Hey, Bee," he said, with a somewhat forced grin. He crawled on top of the wedges where he was tied down and crouched next to the young Autobot's head. Bumblebee made a welcoming, if worried sound.

"_What's_ _goin' on around here?_" came a southern drawl over his radio, no doubt from some obscure movie Sam had never heard of.

"A lot," he said breathlessly. "See this? I'm going to...well, it's supposed to make the Replicators that are infecting you dormant. Optimus and Ratchet need your help. The Wraith and Storm Jet and the Decepticons, they're all here and trying to destroy the compound. You..." For the first time, he realized that Bee wasn't even half as damaged as he had been before. Ratchet had spent a lot of time on him, sure, but not enough for this kind of recovery. Did the Replicators do something good for a change? "Man, Bee, you look a hell of a lot better than before."

"_This is going to be loooots of fun_," a nasally voice responded via radio recording. Sam couldn't help but smile. He turned the device in his hand around and winced a little as he plugged the needle-sharp end into some exposed circuits underneath his guardian's plating. Nothing obvious happened, but then, nothing obvious had happened when Mudflap was 'cured'. Pocketing the device again, he slid off to the ground and grabbed the enormous clasp on the chain that held him down. It was easy enough to unlocked the makeshift restraints, and Bumblebee quickly rose to his feet, examining his arms and hands as though astonished at his own rate of recovery.

"Come on, Bee. They need your--" Sam froze as he turned around. Compound 4 seemed a little too empty. "Wait a minute...Trailbreaker—where is Trailbreaker? He was just...oh, no. No, no, no..."

He did _not_ just lose an Autobot. If it turned out there was _another_ one infected by these tiny mind-controlling micro-machines, and he'd lost track of him...Sam looked up at Bumblebee with wide eyes. "Bee, I think we're in trouble."

* * *

-

If he was alive, it was difficult to tell if he was online or in a state of dreaming. Optimus felt an eerie tingle in all of his circuits, as though he had just consumed far too much Energon or touched one of the human's suspended electrical telephone cables. Through static-laced optics, he watched as Storm Jet shuddered, and took a collapsing step backwards. Then his oldest friend, his once beloved mentor struck the ground with a garbled, electronic gasp. Optimus could see the spherical glow of his fluttering spark through a ragged hole in his chest.

Ironhide? Not Ratchet. None of his officers could have done this; none of them were in the right position to—it struck Optimus within seconds. _This all began with Trailbreaker_. He had forgotten Storm Jet's words, even though they had been spoken mere minutes before their weight came crashing down.

The young communications' officer, dark blue body convulsing with the effort it took to remain erect, stood opposite of the morally crippled Storm Jet and Optimus Prime. What Optimus had felt shortly after his mentor's fall was the electromagnetic pulse that accompanied the explosion of raw energy that Trailbreaker had used to attack Storm Jet.

"You made me think I was lucky to be alive," said the severely weakened Trailbreaker. "You always were good at lyin', Stormy. I got big ears, remember? I heard what you said. I'm just big ol' batch of these Replicator thingies...s'why I don't have a spark. That's why I can't consume no Energon. You brought me back from the dead, and that just ain't right. I hate you. You...you have to pay for that, y'know..."

Optimus looked at him, as the compound seemed to have grown a lot more still since Storm Jet collapsed. His officer returned the look sadly. "Sorry, Prime...I guess I'm the leak. S'not like I knew, or I would've told ya. I promise. I really thought I felt different 'cause coming so close to dyin' changed me...can ya forgive me?"

Severe pity overcame the Prime in that moment. This was not what he had imagined. "I cannot," he said slowly. "You have done nothing wrong, Trailbreaker."

"No, what I am's wrong," the blue Autobot insisted. The yellow globe in his left arm was darkened with the lack of energy and one side of his face was functioning slower than than the other. "Prime, there's gonna be a storm soon...that big ship up there, it's about to kill a lot of human folk. You gotta do somethin' about that...you're gonna do somethin' about it, right?"

Something appeared to break inside Trailbreaker. His blue optics died, and his body arced forward to strike the ground with a stir of ash and dust.

Optimus stepped up to where Storm Jet lay, unable to look in the direction of his fallen communications officer. His old mentor had attempted to stand a few times, and now that the Prime glared down at him from above, he went still and quiet for some spark-piercing seconds.

"You're wiser than me, Prime," said the former Autobot. Oil was pooling on the ground below him, leaking steadily from the ravaged gap in his chest cavity. Even now, his body looked as though it were crawling with unimaginably tiny beads of silvery liquid—the nanites at work, dutifully trying to repair the damage done to their host. "I am an abomination...what I did to Trailbreaker was the first of many terrible transgressions...you know what I must do, before they finish repairing me..."

"I have already lost one good comrade tonight," Optimus told him. "I now realize that I will lose two. I wish this had ended differently, old friend."

Trailbreaker had known what he was doing, either because he had been clever enough to know that critically wounding Storm Jet would give him a fighting chance against the Replicators, or because he simply hated the nanites for his own design. The leader of the Autobots warmly appreciated that from his downed officer, agonizing over the fact that it was now too late to thank him properly.

He relayed an order to Ironhide as Storm Jet clambered to his feet. His old mentor gripped his own chest, as though that would keep the fluids and his spark from escaping his body. "All hail the last Prime," he said, even as he began to transform. Scorched and crackling with spent energy, the Cybertronian jet took off into the sky at a sluggish speed, gauging the clouds and slicing through the atmosphere.

* * *

"I think I like these guys," said Sheppard. The fact that this statement didn't even begin to sum up his appreciation for what he had just seen was evident as the sun on the horizon.

In the perfect afterglow of the twilight, the Earth was saved by one of the most unlikeliest of heroes, when Storm Jet's already sparkless body collided with the hive ship in orbit, causing a cascading eruption like no other. The fireball appeared as a rather large dot in the sky, challenging the orange ball of the sun for just a brief moment in time. After that, there was nothing left.

Just neverending glory.

* * *

-

TBC


	25. Untrailbreakable

**_Same Side_**

**_---  
_**

AN: I will write another Transformers fanfi...er, novel. Seriously, look at the size of this thing. It's not really a sequel, since it won't be a crossover. Yes, I know this story will 'seem' incomplete, but I can't just let it end with the destruction of all of Earth's enemies! Where would the alliance be? WOULD there be one?

So...it'll be about the Twins, or focus on Ironhide. Since there's fewer stories about the former, I'm tempted to write them, but it's so gosh darned hard to ignore Ironhide's awesomeness.

One more chapter left. Besides this one.

* * *

_Chapter Twenty-Five: Untrailbreakable_

* * *

-

There was a quietness in the Compound that reflected the previous day's events. The cleanup went as smoothly as if it were in the wake of a celebration rather than a trial of disaster. Nobody wanted to admit it, but they had been unprepared for the worst and now that it was over, no one knew who to blame or turn to for advice. Airmen looked to their ranking officers, lab techs looked to their mentors and the Autobots looked to Optimus Prime for direction. Lennox had only himself to look to. Every tragedy they had felt and faced until now seemed almost trivial in comparison to the victory of today.

Many of the Wraith darts had turned kamikaze when their hive ship was destroyed. The ones that tried to flee were hunted down by highly trained pilots in F-302 fighters. If any managed to escape alive, they were off the monitor and likely would remain so until they became problems in the future. It was crass in retrospect, but to Lennox, they were someone else's problems. Right now, he had a bunch of boys to take care of and an alliance to partake in.

But first, he had a meeting with someone important in the Autobot residence. It had to do with Trailbreaker and the rest of the inactive alien nanites. Even though the immediate threat was gone, the aftermath was thick with the metaphorical flies buzzing around the decaying masses of their loss. Something had to be done.

Eighteen men and women had died during the attack on the Compound and twelve more were in serious condition. At least three dozen others had suffered non-threatening injuries and were assisting with the recovery of their alliance's base. Only three humans, aside from Ronon, had been reported to turn against their allies and only one soldier, a young woman by the name of Second Lieutenant Mackenzie Loyals had been spared a tragic fate; her commanding officer had put two bullets into each of her legs to stop her from strangling a fellow airman and thus saved her life. Major Oaks and Private First Class Garrick had not been as fortunate.

Everyone worked through the night and by six hundred hours the next morning, a shade of normalcy had returned to the top secret base. Lennox hadn't slept in over thirty-two hours and had to resort to a stimulant just to stay walking upright as he entered the CAR, taking in the scene before him with stoic reproach.

Ratchet had been neglecting his own state of injury in order to tend to the much more beat-up Mudflap, which was unsurprising considering his nature. Even though he had only one arm to work with, the red Twin had sustained plenty of damage during his fight with the Decepticon brothers in Smoke Hill and even more when Optimus had turned on him during his infection with Replicators. None of the Autobots were in danger of losing their spark, but when the commander of the Autobots had crushed Mudflap's one arm, he had made it next to impossible for the twin to transform successfully and thus made it much harder to recharge after an Energon boost. This is precisely what Lennox saw when he stepped into the large hangar, lit only by the few intact overhead lights and the glow of the rising sun.

Trailbreaker's body had been set aside from the wreckage of Vortex, now covered in a pale green tarp and surrounded by six very alert marines. The blue Autobot had not gone into stasis lock when his energy reserves were depleted. There was no spark in his chest. There had not been a spark in his body since his destruction on Cybertron. As such, there was no telling if the inert Replicators that held his parts together would ever revive him. The United States military and I.O.A. were not even close to allowing the nanites a chance to do just that. Under those circumstances, there was nothing any of the Autobots could do to change the collective minds of the most influential members of their human allies.

Major Lennox wanted to help in any way he could. He saw to it that Dr. McKay received the best medical attention in the entire Compound, and now he felt he needed to check in with the other half of his tri-cornered alliance. Optimus looked as though he had just finished a conversation with Sam Witwicky when the NEST leader approached him.

"Major," said the towering Autobot, turning appraising optics on him as he tured around. "I had thought you would be resting by now. After all, relying solely on artificial stimulants is dangerous to your health."

A war had just come and gone, and he was being lectured by one of the biggest alien robots he had even had the pleasure of befriending. Lennox couldn't help but grin, despite his physical fatigue. "Tell you what, big guy...I'll worry about what my body can handle and you worry about getting your guys back into shape. There's still lots of Decepticons out there, not to mention a lot of other aliens that want to dominate planet Earth."

"How is Dr. McKay? I heard his medical procedure went well," Optimus went on, turning his attention to his own medical officer and his loudly complaining patient.

"You're doing the small talk thing again. Bad habits are bad habits, Optimus, even for you. But the doc's just fine. Sheppard would be tearing what's left of the Compound down around us if he wasn't. Ronon, on the other hand, has to wait a few days before he's completely Replicator-free. It's one thing to stick someone with an electric needle and reprogram a bunch of microscopic termites, and another to wash the little buggers out of your bloodstream with pure adrenaline."

"One more reason I'm glad I'm microscopic termite free," Sam mentioned, looking just as weary and beaten as the major felt. "Not to mention the Allspark stuff in my head quieted down again. I never thought I'd say this, but I'm really looking forward to going back to class tomorrow."

"That reminds me, Sam," said the Prime, averting his attention to the eighteen-year-old. "I have decided to include two more Autobots in your protection for the time being. Megatron is still out there, and willing to try anything to break our morale."

Sam's face blanched several shades lighter and his eyes widened slightly. Clutching his hands together, he blinked up at the much, much taller Optimus and said, "Oh...'kay...um, y'know, Optimus, Bee's doing just great at his job. I mean, I'm grateful, obviously, but..."

The Autobot leader shook his great head. "The decision is final, Sam. Starting tomorrow, the Twins will be acting as additional scouts for potential Decepticon threats in your school's city. It is time I put my trust in their abilities, just as I have put my trust in you."

"Tha's right, princess," Skids quipped from the other side of the hangar. "S'bout time da Twins got all up'n personal with Decepticronies. Ain't that right, Mudflap?" He bumped a metal fist to the half-repaired one of his red twin, irking Ratchet to the point where the medical officer turned his welding laser on the more talkative Autobot. "Ow!" cried Skids, shaking the offended arm. "Cut dat out!"

"A mistake if I ever heard one," Ironhide muttered, picking up yet another piece of Wraith dart and tossing it into the growing pile of scrap. "Who needs the Decepticons when those two miscreants are in charge of keeping the Allspark's knowledge safe?"

"Thanks, Ironhide." Sam narrowed his eyes at the black Autobot. "I'm extremely moved by your concern for my safety."

Lennox listened and observed for a minute or two more, finally accepting that despite the gloom in the air, the mood in the CAR was returning to normal. He could rely on Optimus to make sure they were prepared for the next onslaught of chaos. It was a miracle there had been so few casualties during the past week's untamed madness; not that the current count of lost comrades wasn't hard to swallow, but considering the intricacy of their enemy's plan, they had suffered far less than what he had expected. He'd warmed up to Trailbreaker's sarcastic antics, but in the end, he had to think ahead to their next problem and leave the mourning to those who had known him best.

By the time he reached Compound 1, the stimulant he'd taken was starting to wear off. He almost ran right into Sheppard as his worn-out expression betrayed the depth of his thoughts to his fellow Compound Alliance leader. Colonel Sheppard put a hand on Lennox's shoulder to steady him and raised an eyebrow.

"That look's not good for you, Major," he said. "Seriously, you're as bad as McKay. Get some sleep; I can handle whatever gets throw our way for the next eight hours or so."

"Right, and what about you? Nice try, Sheppard. I've gone three days before without catching a cat nap. Now is no different. I'm still waiting for the other shoe to drop."

"You too, huh?" Now in a fresh change of clothing, the colonel stood with his hands buried in his pockets, looking oddly serious. "I just had a chat with Todd. Looks like he's willing to help us track down the hybrids and wipe them out in exchange for a comfy room with a nice view. I gotta say, I'm kind of surprised he's willing to starve himself to death when he could have easily grabbed one of the darts and made a break for it."

"From what I've heard, that alien is just about as old, or even older than Optimus Prime," said Lennox. "You may have some weird, creepy trust thing going on with him, but I'll take my chances with shooting blindly into the dark rather than trust his agenda."

"Yeah." Sheppard squinted at him a little. "We'll talk about it later."

"Galloway's on his way here," Lennox went on, as they fell into stride together, crossing the debris field that was the building's floor towards the Stargate. "I already set up a date for him and General O'Neill. Last thing Optimus needs is a bald thorn like him in his side."

"Nice move. The general's not a big fan of bureaucrats."

* * *

-

Teyla stood above Rodney's bed, trying to think of brighter things as she looked down upon her friend's sleeping face. In the care of these doctors, his health had improved greatly over the past nine hours. Over the past five years, she had many opportunities to feel proud of the scientist she held dearly in her heart, which reflected her feelings right now. If it had not been for his strained efforts, she and several others would likely be dead at the hands of allies forcibly turned against their comrades.

McKay's face twitched a little and his head stirred from side to side. "Jennifer...?" he slurred, cracking his eyes open. It took a few seconds before he made sense of the face looming over him. "Oh, Teyla...hi."

"Hello, Rodney," she said with a wide smile.

The astrophysicist's attention glanced back and forth. "This is familiar...wasn't I here just a few days ago...?"

"Yes, Rodney." Now she chuckled. "Do not worry. The Wraith are gone and the Decepticons will not return for a long time. You can rest for as long as you need."

He snorted weakly and closed his eyes for a moment. "Fat chance," he muttered. "Ugh...my body feels like it got fed on by a Wraith. Not that I'd...know what that's like...oh God," he said, his eyes snapping open again. "Did I get fed on? Be honest, Teyla. I really need your honesty right now."

"No." Teyla sighed. "You are as young, and as...questionably healthy as ever."

"Oh, thanks." A second or two later, he exhaled long and slowly. "Sorry, Teyla...I'm kinda...tired right now. Mind if I...just..." And then he was out again, looking far more peaceful than he had before he woke up. Teyla reached down and gave her friend's hand a gentle squeeze before turning away.

Major Lorne was waiting for her outside the medical ward, a P90 tucked under one arm and a gentle look on his face. "We're about to head to the alpha site now," he told her. "You know, you don't have to come with us, Teyla. These aren't the same hybrids that Michael was controlling back in the Pegasus galaxy."

She smiled at him, deeply appreciating his kind words. Even though they likely made sense to him, they lacked conviction. Their enemies were hybrids, and as such were partly her responsibility. Even if they were not, she _was_ a part of Earth's defense now and she had long ago accepted her role as a protector—and now, an aggresor. "Thank you," she replied, dipping her head slightly. "Allow me to gather my things, and I will be as ready as you are."

There was still so much work left to do.

* * *

-

Ratchet finished welding the last of the fibers in Mudflap's right arm, finalizing the reattachment of the twin's lost appendage with a silent sigh of relief. It had been a difficult procedure with only one arm, but the young one's brother had been only too willing to provide the assistance he need to make up for his lack of coordination. The hole in the medical officer's own body would take a great deal longer to repair, and he may even have to resort to allowing Optimus to do most of the patching up.

That was an issue for another day, however. Ratchet dismissed the Twins, finding himself alone inside the residence aside from Optimus. After the younger Autobots vanished through the warped entrance to the hangar, the old mech stretched out his good arm and slowly approached the place where they had laid Trailbreaker down and covered him. The soldiers guarding the cadaver of his fallen comrade paid him no heed; their duty was to keep an eye out for suspicious activity and react in an appropriate manner—this was far from such. Ratchet simply intended to give his respects and examine the remains a little closer.

Optimus had noticed his behaviour and joined him, just as the medical officer lifted the tarp and leaned over Trailbreaker's sparkless form. They were silent together.

"Even at my age, I still believed there was such thing as a miracle," Ratchet said at last, as his scans showed him the same results as they had the past seven attempts to analyze the blue one's composition. "I saw with my own optics what became of him on Cybertron. Perhaps if we had treated him with suspicion from the very beginning, he would still be with us."

"Trailbreaker pushed himself beyond his limits in order to protect the human race. And his fellow Autobots," Optimus assured him. "Right until the very end, he felt more concern for the safety of this planet than himself. The fact that he performed all this without ever having a spark only speaks for the simple truth: it is not what we are made of that makes us who we are. It is what we do that counts."

A few seconds of reflection passed. Then one of the soldiers who had been standing on guard, a young marine Optimus did not recognize by name, stepped forward. "Sir!"

Surprised, the leader of the Autobots took a step back to view the much smaller human with a flicker of curiosity behind his impervious mask. "Yes, Lieutenant?"

Straight-faced and bold, the marine stood at attention and saluted briskly. He then reached around his neck with poised authority and removed what appeared to be one of two beaded chains with a metal tag attached to it. With determined eyes, the lieutenant held the trinket in front of him as though it were the most valuable thing in the room. "For what it's worth, sir. Every last one of us decided it would be appropriate to have this made in his honor, sir. You see, Trailbreaker wanted one of his own. He saw it on television. Sir, we thought he might like to have it now, with your permission."

Rarely Optimus felt speechless, but this type of honest openness triggered something nostalgic in his spark. He recognized the importance of the ornaments the members of the humans' military proudly adorned; the pewter-hued plate dangling on the fragile chain was etched with their name, identifying them and symbolizing their commitment. He also knew it was customary to remove these medallions from the dead in order to commemorate them. Silently, he lowered his hand to the soldier's level and allowed him to drape the chain around his smallest finger.

"Thank you," said Optimus gravely, with genuine gratitude. "I know he would deeply appreciate this gesture, Lieutenant." Not much more could be said, and it seemed to please the young marine to know that their offering meant something. He stepped back into line and stood erect, swallowing an obvious lump in his throat.

"_You are right, Prime_," Ratchet told him in a silent relay of their own language. He looked at his commander cradling the extremely tiny chain in the center of his hand. _"The human race is full of surprises. I believe even Storm Jet realized what you and I know now, and that is why he gave his spark to save this planet from destruction."_

"_He did not want me to make the same mistakes he made with the Replicators_," Optimus responded. The six marines were busy pulling the tarp back over Trailbreaker, with an unsurprising amount of respectful ceremony. _"Sixshot, Gamble, Sharpshot and Vortex were dragged deliberately into his schemes. He lured many Decepticons to their doom. He may have even brought Starscream's tyranny to an end. I have never been this proud of my mentor than I am now."_

"_No sacrifice, no victory_." Ratchet turned away to begin his task of self-repair. He transmitted an almost wistful conclusion to their conversation, "_And what a victory it was."_

_

* * *

_

-

TBC (one last time)

_

* * *

_

* * *


	26. Epilogue: Same Side

_**Same Side**_

_**---  
**_

AN: Someone's going to get their wish. Also, I hope you all enjoyed this story. Seeing how it's slightly open-ended where concerning plot, I could write a sequel someday. The amount of time, the sheer volume of work it takes to write a novel like this, however, demands a few more readers. Though I found everyone's support very helpful and the regular readers' feedback inspiring, I end this crossover wanting more, somehow...every performer, even in the linguistic arts craves bigger audiences...one I hope to find by writing something _not_ crossover...y.

I think the biggest reasons this story has not attracted more readers are A) The sparse population of fans who like both SGA and Transformers and B) The fact that this story is in the crossover section. It's quite a bit harder to come across a crossover unless you're looking for it...or you're really, really bored. Admit it, you were bored.

Or the story just really, really sucks...but we all know that's not true. Right?

Random Fact of Interest: This is officially the longest _complete_ story I have written out of 45 stories, which combined total over 651,000 words. The runner up is only 41,000 words long. I plan to go bigger with my next Transformers fanfic. While simultaneously torturing you all with the Twins' antics and Ironhide's snarky coolness.

Behold, the first and only chapter title that isn't a movie! Thing.

* * *

_Epilogue: Same Side_

_

* * *

-  
_

"Can't figure it out yet, huh, Rodney?"

Sheppard wasn't about to give McKay a piece of his mind for having someone smuggle a laptop into the infirmary. If Beckett were here or even Dr. Keller—heck, especially Keller—the sneaky scientist wouldn't have gotten away with it. But he did think it was at least necessary to taunt him from the end of Rodney's bed.

"Look, I know it's sort of...twisted to say this now that he's, well, dead, but..." McKay was still half in and half out of Rodney Land, the land of magical algorithms and a buffer zone for translation. "Trailbreaker was weird."

"As far as giant talking robots go, you mean," said Sheppard, gripping the metal bar on the end of the bed.

Rodney snorted. "Yes. Well, no. When it comes to the physiology of Transformers, I probably know as much as the tomato I ate in today's lunch special. If that's not hard enough for me to admit, then the fact that the _Replicators_ he was made of are something way beyond my ability to comprehend makes me feel..."

"Stupid?"

"Out of the loop. Loopless. Thank you, John."

"You can't know everything."

"Yes, I can, and starting the very instant they let me out of this Nazi hospital, I'm going to spend as _much_ time as I possibly can learning about the Autobots."

"I'm sure they'd love that," said the colonel without an ounce of conviction. He then leaned back and crossed his arms, digging even further into his arsenal of mind tricks. "Just as soon as you fix the Stargate and the Asgard shield emitters and figure out how to move Atlantis to the Southern hemisphere without half the world noticing."

"Can you stop being yourself for two seconds?" Rodney snapped. He stopped tapping on his laptop for a second with a reflective expression on his face. "Trailbreaker's nanites were completely unique. It's as if they evolved on their own over a long period of time, assimilating more to the original host's type of programming rather than entering their versatile, hostile takeover stage. This is just a theory, but based on what I've gathered...it's possible that they existed in a more symbiotic relationship with him as opposed to the Replicators that infected Ronon and Mudflap and just about everyone else."

"Interesting," the colonel said, which was only half true. He didn't really understand anything his good pal McKay was saying, but it might lead somewhere. Maybe.

"It's more than interesting," McKay muttered, returning his attention to his laptop screen. He seemed to lower the volume of his voice, as though afraid an Autobot might overhear him in the center of the Compound 2 building. "Now, maybe...and this is a _serious_ maybe, Sheppard...if I combine my old research on the Replicators with what I know about the Autobots, I _could_ figure out a way to reactivate Trailbreaker's Replicator nanites. It's incredibly unlikely they would still pose a threat, seeing how Storm Jet is gone and they're absolutely incapable of replicating themselves."

The first thing Sheppard wanted to do was point out that the IOA would rather wear tinfoil hats then let something like that happen, but he caught a glimpse of a very familiar look on Rodney's face. He broke into a grin. "You _liked_ him," he said slowly.

The scientist tossed him an irritated glare. "That's your logical conclusion? I just happen to want to help them recover a valuable asset they lost while protecting Earth. It's...it's my duty, as a citizen of this planet."

"Admit it, Rodney. You like Optimus and the other Autobots. You're just too shy to admit it. I mean, I get it; Optimus saved your life back on that ice planet before, and Trailbreaker covered your ass when you got injured during the Wraith attack..."

"_After_ I risked my life fixing the DHD to save everyone else first!" the heated snipe came right back at him. "Let's not forget who figured out how to shut off the Transformer Replicators, either."

"You're right. We should thank Sam _again_ for showing you how to do that."

"He gave me a hint! He didn't actually do anything, he just...you know what? Forget I said anything. Jennifer told me to not let you bug me so much, and I'm going to take that advice. Starting now."

"Get well soon, Rodney," Sheppard said with a smirk, satisfied that the scientist was back to his normal self just two days after his close call. Of course, the morphine was helping him through the worst of having a hole that penetrated two inches past his collar bone. Ignoring his friends blatantly irritated look, the colonel turned around and headed out the door of the infirmary.

People were recovering from the catastrophe rather well. Sooner or later, they would have to start setting up real missions to their allies outposts out in the Milky Way galaxy, to gather both intel and potential resources to start a new kind of war against the last remaining Pegasus enemies. It was obvious by now that the hybrids were being led by some sort of figurehead; it was just a question of who and where. Not only that, but they weren't being as candid and aggressive as the Wraith had been—no, they were finding planets to settle on. Biding their time. Attacking Jaffa and humans alike to increase their numbers. An entire hive ship full of half-Wraith, mostly human alien cultists was bad enough, Sheppard thought. A whole galaxy, though?

If it weren't for NEST, their future would look very, very grim.

After a few minutes of aimless strolling through the Compound 2 building, Sheppard found that he had moved right past the mess area and the training gym. The marines guarding the south saluted him as he stepped through the blue barrier that lead outdoors—a gesture he was still getting used to. Heck, he _was_ still one of the Compound Alliance leaders. Or he would be, if Colonel Caldwell decided to overlook that court martial he had promised during the _Daedalus_ incident.

Sheppard immediately spotted Lennox driving towards him in one of the Compound mini-carts. There were bullet holes in the side of the tiny vehicle. "Hello, Colonel," the NEST commander greeted. "Let's cut the small talk, because we both know we've had less than twelve hours of sleep between us. Get in the cart; we're meeting Epps at the CAR to check in with Optimus."

"Got nothing better to do...surprisingly," said Sheppard, adding the last word for emphasis. He hopped over the somewhat crumpled door into the passenger seat. "Hey, uh...I don't suppose, y'know, after all that's happened..."

"Nice try, Colonel, but you still owe Epps and I two rounds of beer. Just as soon as we're done fighting an intergalactic war with an invading alien species."

As the cart sped across the Compound lot, the colonel leaned back in his head and folded his hands on his lap. "Fair enough."

* * *

-

"General O'Neill, thank you for taking the time to see me."

As always, O'Neill was standing at the front of the briefing table whilst the two other occupants in the room sat on either side of the stainless steel structure. The silvered general furled his brow slightly before replying. "Well thank you for your thank you, which we all know is about as genuine as my Uncle Marty's Christmas cards every New Year's Eve."

He did not have an Uncle Marty, but who cared?

It was well worth making the comment to see Galloway's face pucker up a little, as though the bureaucrat had just tasted something sour. Woolsey, the other member of the (fully intended to be) short meeting, tried to not look smug as the so-called liaison was raked against Jack O'Neill's seniority and wit.

Galloway cleared his throat, obviously not wanting to instigate something that could be considered an 'oversight'. "I was just going to say that...despite the way things were handled here these past few days, I'd like to assure you that the President doesn't hold you accountable in any way."

O'Neill nodded thoughtfully. "Well that's good," he said. "How is that old leader of the free world doing, anyway? Still being all fancy-free and...not you? Being the commander of Earth's most powerful defense organization, I tend to not get informed of these things until..." He looked at his watch. "Oh, about an hour after Joe the Plumber finds out."

Woolsey, who had been in mid-sip with his coffee mug attached to his lips, had to start coughing to cover up the laughter he'd failed to repress. When the java had left his airways, he straightened his tie and forced his mouth into a thin line, reserving his own comments for later.

"You may think this is a laughing matter, General, but let me assure you--"

"Look, I really don't have a lot of time to stand around and listen to you complain about how poorly my men put their asses on the line to save the planet," O'Neill cut him off with a much more annoyed tone of voice. "I just figured Major Lennox and Colonel Sheppard would be too tired to listen to your whining after fighting Decepticons and Wraith and such, so I'm here as a favour, _not_ by any sane decision made on my part, and since my helicopter leaves in about twenty-five minutes, you don't have a lot of time to make my day any worse than it is. Now," he added, extending his palms outward for effect. "Unleash your hounds, so to speak."

"This is not a playground, General O'Neil. This is a highly developed, _intensely_ classified series of events that you and the rest of your military _bunkmates_ clearly do not take seriously if this is how you treat a member the President's advisory council. This entire alliance has gone to ruin the moment Major Lennox was put in charge of the Autobots' deployment. He allowed the Replicator situation to get out of hand, which if I recall correctly—" Galloway ranted, flipping through some of the pages of the report he had spread out in front of him, "—nearly cost Teyla Emmagen her life, not to mention Ronon, or the alliance members _he_ put into jeopardy when the nanites forced control over him. And need I even get started on the insurgent Autobot who was not only spying for the enemy, but was in fact, _made_ from the very same alien technology we are at war with?"

"First of all, the thing about Replicators..." O'Neill spoke as though he were speaking to a class of ten-year-olds on the subject of physical intimacy. "They're really good at hiding. Being microscopic and all. And that 'alien' thing you keep mentioning, pretty much sums up why even our best equipment couldn't detect them. That's what McKay tells me, anyway. Canadian brainiacs tend to be right about these things."

"I would like to take a moment to add that Major Lennox is not, was not, and never _has_ been in charge of Autobot deployment," Woolsey put in, turning his coffee mug around on the table using only the handle. "I believe Optimus Prime has been in charge of that particular duty since day one. Also, if it hadn't been for his intervention, willingly incapacitating one of his own officers, Teyla wouldn't be alive to care for her infant son and husband today."

Naturally, it took much more than the blunt end of the axe of truth to nullify Galloway. Clutching the folder containing the mission report, as though it was (and it was) his only ally, the man in the twenty-five thousand dollar suit swallowed and went on to say, "Optimus Prime and the rest of his alien cohorts are precisely why the Wraith even bothered to come to Earth in the first place. According to the Wraith informant we have in custody, they would have continued pursuing the hybrids had the Autobot responsible for this mess not contacted them and formed his own alliance."

"Oh, yes," said O'Neill. "And after they found them, fed on them, increased their arsenal of weapons and information, they would mailed us a post card and and high-tailed it through hyperspace back home."

"At this point," snapped Galloway, slapping the folder shut. "I have no interest in butting heads with the thickest skull in the history of the United States Air Force. Starting next week, I am going to be doubling as a member of the International Oversight Advisory as well as the President's personal NEST liaison. I am positive they will see things for the way they are, rather than this bloated fantasy you're trying to spin here."

"Actually," Woolsey said, leaning forward in his seat. This was the moment he had been waiting for. "The I.O.A. has decided to elect me as their official Compound Alliance representative. Given my experience in the field of hybrid warfare and successes in collaborating with Colonel Sheppard in the past, the choice was rather obvious. And yes, even the President agrees with their decision."

For a moment, the balding bureaucrat opened and closed his mouth silently as his opponent's words sunk in. "You...you are trying to say that you cheated me out of a position I have worked for, for two years in solid dedication to humanity's cause?"

"On the contrary," Woolsey replied, standing up and straightening his jacket. "I am _putting_ you in the position where you belong: with your political face under my foot, and out of the Alliance's way. After all, we have another war coming our way. Those not on our side direly need to step down and let humanity...and its allies do what needs to be done."

"We'd love to stick around and talk about your feelings some more, Mr. Galloway," O'Neill said, gathering up the papers he had brought with him and tapping their edges on the table to straighten the pile. "But I have yet _another_ meeting with the Joint Chiefs of Staff to attend to, and Mr. Woolsey's a busy man, what with his recent promotion and all. I'll have Airman McCormick show you the way to your bunker. I hear it even comes with the Internet now. Which is _way_ better than the bunkers I had to sleep in twenty years ago."

A red-faced Galloway was led out of the loft and down to the main level by the airman standing by, which left Woolsey and O'Neill behind. The general checked his watch and made a thoughtful sound. "Hmm, that didn't take nearly as long as I thought it would. Care to join me for a bowl of Fruit Loops, Mr. Woolsey?"

"Actually, I have been feeling a little peckish this morning," the new Alliance liason said with a controlled smile. "I would be delighted to."

* * *

-

Sam was not ready to leave the CAR. Even though he had arrived less than a week ago, ripped out of his normal life and dragged through his third climactic battle with aliens in his short lifetime, he felt as though it wasn't time to go just yet. Nor was he expected to—with Storm Jet's double-betrayal against Starscream, Megatron would only try harder to obtain the one human that Optimus would give himself up for unconditionally: Sam.

Despite that, he _was_ going to leave. College was still new, and he was still untrained. Fighting and running from the bad guys couldn't be a career, not unless he joined the army (never, ever happening), so what could a good kid do? Go back to Pennsylvania and study, of course. With Bumblebee, his guardian, and the two extra street slang-slinging sidekicks that Optimus dumped on him. The only upside to his fate was that Leo was going crazy over the Twins' addition to the college team. If Skids hadn't been assigned to be his roommate's 'first year car', Leo's rant alone could have made the severely damaged CAR building collapse. The quickest way to make a college student happy was to give him a car in his freshman year. Who knew?

Most of his things were in boxes, still. Sam decided to leave them in the empty office and closed the door behind him, the mild and humid air of the Autobot residence hitting his face. The Twins were being treated by Ratchet for their final 'check-ups' to make sure they were ready for the next mission through the Stargate. They were also apparently being 'upgraded' with some special technology that helped them get through the weird alien device without overloading their circuits.

Ironhide and Optimus were sitting in the middle of the open hangar, where a pile of Wraith debris had been just forty-eight hours earlier. Sam approached them leisurely, taking note of how extremely polished and perfect the black truck and the massive Peterbilt were after Ratchet's careful ministrations. Nothing got past the medic's attention, apparently. Coming up on Optimus' right side, Same gave a rigid wave. "Hey, guys."

"_Hello, Sam,"_ came the base voice over the truck's speakers. "_I take it you are ready to return to your college to resume training?"_

"Studying, Optimus. Not training. And yeah, I guess I am. Uh, mind if I join you? This place kind of freaks me out, since all I can think about are green-skinned aliens and screaming death gliders."

In response, the passenger door to the blue-and-red truck opened wide. Same grabbed on to the handle outside the door and climbed into the seat of the Autobot's cab. This was a bit more familiar, and he didn't even realize he had been tense until he felt the muscles in his neck relax. "So, let me guess...you're not changing your mind about the Twins?"

"_I believe you already know the answer to that question"_

"Right...of course."

_"Understand, Sam. If I am on a mission in another part of this galaxy, I will be unable to come to your assistance should the Decepticons attack. It will be entirely up to Bumblebee, Skids, and Mudflap to transport you safely into the hands of your military."_

"It's okay, Optimus. No need to explain to me why, because trust me, I've figured it out by now. I know this makes me sound selfish, but...why exactly are you getting involved in all this? The fight against Decepticons, protecting Earth from them, I get all that, but all these new aliens and secret military operations...it's just a little too deep, isn't it?"

_"The boy wants to know why," _Ironhide's voice came from the cab of the black pick-up next to them. _"I think the inquiry itself is too absurd for me to wrap my processor around."_

"_There are many reasons I chose to involve ourselves in this alliance,"_ Optimus said, neglecting his officer's comment. "_None more important than this simple question: how are we able to defend Earth if its inhabitants are no longer around to preserve?"_

"Ah." Sam toyed with the chain around his neck, the same one Leo had given him as a 'thank you for not getting me killed' present. "Somehow I figured it was more than that. I mean, you and the other Autobots are going to start hunting the galaxy for aliens who want to destroy us, right? Even though they could do it without you."

_"Sam, your concern for our safety is appreciated, very greatly,_" came the voice over the truck's speakers then, seeing right through the college student's flimsy word barrier. "_Trust me. Ironhide and I have been doing this for a very, very long time."_

It was getting warmer outside, and Sam could see in the middle of the paved lot outside a cart heading in their direction. Lennox and Sheppard were probably on their way to let their fellow Alliance leader in on the updated news from within Compound 1. Sam sighed, realizing just how short the day was going to be. "Y'know, you're right, Optimus."

_"Thank you._"

Same grinned, catching the tone of feigned conceit in the Autobot's projected voice. "No, no, I really get it. I've been thinking like it's 'them' and 'us' all this time, which is just as bad as thinking of you as machines with software, and all humans as monkeys. I know, I know it's lame, but we're obviously all on the same side."

_"And that, Sam, concludes your first lesson in understanding the nature of a complex relationship."_

Sam kicked the underside of the dashboard.

* * *

-

End


End file.
